Framed Nature © 2016 Cynthia Pittmann
I sit down and notice morning sunlight and birds
flying low in the green glen– Is this Beatrix Potter’s field
Or a Scottish valley set down right here in
our tropical water-laced world
— all tinted with prismatic light?
Busy girls sit and talk about class and quiz
into a blank canvas made so through
empty speech — as they bounce away the glen smiles
From my corner metal table,
I see the the cement building recede
as dark leaves turn light, lighter and lighter still…
Subtle layers of green gradated tones –an artist’s
practice page…a study of green on black or yellow
or white –or like musical scales played by Pan’s flute
as he dances through unkempt blades — gently
separating tiny yellow-eyed daisies
from white peddles with his touch…
Or here by me…my arms and face stroked as
my tight ponytail lifts and wisps escape
to brush my mouth and cheeks…
The morning outside conquers this practical
cold round metal table where I’m sitting…
though I notice its multiple polka dot holes
pierced clean through so water won’t collect —
rusting aqua to orange, smooth to rough…
a functional table, purposefully providing
evidence of reasoning and planning.
A student’s seeking words drift by,”There are things
we don’t know about but still they really are there.”
What?! Ah, she wonders about computers and tracking
cookies –but not the glen’s soggy richness or liquid abundance.
Its vitality? –completely unobserved.
But the birds know. See them moving
from branch to branch and tree to tree?
And the trees know, too. They shake and share
–there’s a party going on! But who
sees it or hears? The breeze pushes
ever so gently (look up and listen)…but
chatting students grab for sweaters.
I raise my eyes while leaves fold in and out
rhythmically and soak in
a sun-dappled morning by the glen
near the School of Education
where awareness is never taught.
© 2016 Cynthia Pittmann
Cynthia Pittmann 