Purpose
by Pat Riviere-Seel

It has no purpose, this
sitting for hours curled
on top of my oak desk
beside a rain plashed window
at dusk peering through
binoculars at a black bear
asleep on the mulch pile
beneath a wild cherry,
a volunteer, trash tree,
that also has no purpose.

I could be cleaning house,
doing laundry, writing
socially responsible verse
or soulful sonnets
that would make readers weep
or even think.

But here I sit with no purpose
other than to watch this bear lift
a round ear, shift position, rise,
and sniff the air. I want
to go out in the drizzle, stroke
his damp fur, nuzzle
into that oily coat, and breathe
the scent of the whole wild world.

Author's Note: This poem reminds me how important it is to pay close attention to the world around me and allow the spirit of life to fill me with wonder, appreciation, and love. I am a poet and runner who spends too much time doing and not enough time being. This poem was first published in The Wild Goose Poetry Review, Spring 2009 (www.wildgoosepoetryreview.com).