Poetry by Michael David Roberts
All but children and birds care
to live their lives with an end game.
We adults prefer to walk narrow paths
usually leading to destinations.
But something always happens—
a major distraction in which
the locks are changed or the knobs
don’t turn, even just a little bit, all
unexpectedly, nothing predictable,
as it should be. And you don’t even know
if you are locked in or out. Sometimes
it is hard to truly be adult about this.
Often in the mornings, when
the dew has soaked the grass
and all the houses have their windows
shuttered, I can hear birds, all in synch,
like a room full of children who
have just discovered a small surprise.
Michael David Roberts is a retired community college professor who currently lives in Tumwater, Washington and spends much of his time walking through nearby forests. He has been published in The Comstock Review, Chelsea, Slipstream, Versedaily.com, and others. His book, The Particulars of Being, was published in 2004.
