Things Undone

Yesterday I left my desk,
ignored grocery list,
crabgrass and
rows of bolted spinach
to watch maples leaves
dance.
As the cardinal whistled
and the catbird mewed
and the chipmunk chattered
and the katydid called
and the purple finch waited
while would-be courters flapped wings,
I sat, eyes closed, face tipped
to sun’s warmth and cooling breeze,
breathing in balsam.

Beneath the reservoir’s muddy waters
life stirred in languid motion.
Something broke
the dappled surface
to catch a water boatman,
as sunlight filtered
feathers of pine.