AND THEN THERE IS US...

We have done little
to deserve this beauty.
We found it like drunks
who stumbled
upon their bed
naked
and foul-smelling.

There is the silky stalk
of the cat,
or how the grass sways
in the reggae wind.
There is the trumpet blast
of the elephant's nose,
or the thick bark
around an aged tree.

We will all
go away soon.
And will take nothing
and leave nothing--
maybe a little plastic;
our only reason
for being here.
That would be
poetry.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2010