the world is still radiant
gold threading a velvet Elvis

tufted titmice and dark-eyed juncos
foraging under conifers

a shy red squirrel making
a high-pitched growl at me

Dad’s gravestone with a gory fresh
garland of songbird feathers

the gift of the present
can never be kept

but only gestured toward
or danced or sung

and in return one can only
for a while remain present

and find a few words
to delight other ears