Philosophy, Divinity, Fish

What they talked about
In eastern Scotland
A lifetime ago,

As I just read here
In this paperback
Opened on my knee

Where I sit in shade
In Utah mountains
On a hot, dry day

While an oriole
Flashes in an oak,
And smaller birds sing,

And dusty lizards
Skitter past my feet—
And no one’s talking,

Which is why I’m here.
Philosophy? Sure.
Zhuangzi’s wind pipes things,

And here’s another
Article on Hume.
Down in the valley,

The missionaries
Of various stripes
Swim in schools past homes,

Searching fresh havens
For divinity
In this hellbound world.

But up here, no one
But me, beasts, and trees,
And I’m taciturn

Except on paper.
The world’s in ruins.
Heaven help the fish.