the way the winds are or aren’t

the woman on the radio
who lives on the island lesbos
saying how it used to be
just one or two boats packed
with 59 adults and children
per day and now
since the conflict in syria
it’s around 200 boats per day
we give them what we can – we collect and sometimes we give them our own clothes.
we can’t stand by and watch them drown.
we have received death threats
she says because people think that us providing humanitarian aid is what draws them here

do you believe that? if people stopped helping, would they stop fleeing  the radio person asks
no she says of course not

the light-colored rabbit
whose fur matches the colors of yellow sand/white snow
that wanders out of the junipers
when i take a non-sidewalk shortcut across campus
how we both stop,
and how i could stay this way
just watching
for hours
the kind woman at the branch library
talking about the un-keep-up-with-able busyness
while she suffles and hustles books
and how she does so without being angry
and how her co-worker asks her
if she needs some juice or water or a snack
the satisfying weight
of books in my backpack which means finally
i can dig in
the unaccompanied uncollared dog
that i first mistake for a coyote
ahead of me on the short trail to the library
and how she lays down in the scrub
her ears poking up and how
if i lived here
i’d be tempted to take her home
universe, i’m ready to meet my unicon. let it rain she says
must be the way the winds
are or aren’t
because for the first time in thirteen days
i hear the bells – 
some xmas song at noon
and then the 6oclock chime heard from my desk
and two hours later
from the same spot
the 8oclock


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