Instead of coffee,

I sip water from a cup

as I watch for dawn.

On my morning walk

I watch a schoolboy watching

the man who feeds birds.

The wind tells stories

while stones and foxes listen

and the stars keep watch.

Watch

too ill to travel

so I watch from my window

the first snow falling

Watching

watching my father

watching the blackbird strutting

on the backyard fence

drinking to the dregs

my seventh cup of coffee

on the solstice watch

The night hotel clerk,

having nothing else to do,

watches a porn flick.

the scratch on my lens—

why I keep watching the wren

with a jaundiced eye

watching words fly by

as though they were skeins of geese

fleeing summer’s end

My grandfather’s watch—

not a tick for fifty years,

yet my heart keeps time.