Perennials

May sunshine, and the old professor
sits on his deck
eating a cold beef sandwich
while just above the grass
the sparrows trampoline
wind currents as if they’re
guided by remote control.

The wren’s so happy
he can’t contain himself
and the house finch flits
from tree to bush, her neck
bright red against the green.

“I could sit here all afternoon,” he thinks,
“listening and looking.”
This morning he read
a freshman paper which told him
that “old people are waiting for death
and content with their surroundings.”

Most of the perennials
have sent out shoots of green.
He imagines them slowly growing,
eating rain and sunshine
to stack cells one against another
calmly working toward a flower,
pushing up, up.

Photo by Roma Kaiuk🇺🇦 on Unsplash