Don’t Be Such a Skeptic

“he doubts his own doubts”

No doubt, I doubt my own doubts

From time to time—probably

Not as often as I should,

And why would my doubts matter?

The ridiculous pink blooms

Of the prickly pear cactus

On the mesa this morning

Doubt nothing. The garden gnome

Down on the suburban lawn

In irrigated desert

Doubts nothing. The sun warming

The road tar in the mountains

And the bluebird on the pine

Doubts nothing. All absences

Of doubt matter, I don’t doubt,

But I have faith those absences

Nurture their nascent seeds of doubt,

Which, warmed and watered, blossom out.