After I learned their secret:
Know everything, but only chase
Seeds you can reach.
One hung high from the tree
So I could see him, waving his
Fat belly, no longer taunting
But cheering me.
They are welcoming at the ranch, too,
Cocked tails in dust formation
Into the ice plants, to gleefully reveal
Their special portals inside.
It's not a trick if you've figured it out;
Disappearance is only magic
When you think that they exist.
And now we're part of a brotherhood,
Where facts are like nuts, easily cracked
And hoarded, but better to discern
And hide. Authenticity comes
From staying so selfish
You recognize you've been lied to
For basically your life, and you are
The only creator being, in the blur
Designed to hook your eye like a crow.
Maybe there are no nuts at all
Except to be buried, for show,
As a symbol, to help things grow.
It was always the knowing that mattered
And equally the letting go,
Like a flying machine locked in plastic
With indecipherable directions — how can you
Even clean it up off the floor?
They run away, those squirrels,
From all of their messes, if only
To show us how to live
In endless discovery.
Brio does that too,
Eating his grain like a 2-year old
Letting it fly, but nuzzling some back
When his bowl is empty.
He is stopped by the dust
Rising like vapor over his white socks.
Until that's gone, his dry lips seem
To say, all is lost.
