Yesterday, after the rain, came the animals.
Fish and cardinals, wet raccoons
and ginger cats, toads, canaries, opossums,
brown bears, and black ones, newts,
skinks, turtles, ewes and lambs,
horses, voles, fox, bucks, balboas,
seals, skunks, miniature, standard sized poodles.
Everyone was wet, skirting off drops,
with expressions of absolutely apathy.
I, a handful of calendula, asked for advice.
'animals,' i asked, 'how should this be?'
i didn't even know myself if i was referring to
my life, my actions, this life, other's emotions,
the way to live daily, the way to pray, the
overarching atmosphere, or to what degree
i should recycle, floss, dust, or prostrate in gratitude.
The question put forward, the pavement steaming
from a few hours of rain after three weeks of heat,
I stood expectant of an answer and received a groundhog
who took the bouquet from my fist, rearranged the yellow,
the salmon, the orange, the brown, and replied
'it should be like this' and looking up from the circle of petals
found the panther and the parrot in agreement.
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