Jack Ridl: "The Neighbors"

Sometimes they
go outside, maybe

move a rosebush
to the back yard or

clean a window.
Usually they

simply stand,
under a maple

or in a snowfall.
And this is often

when they see
a nuthatch on its

dizzy route down
a trunk, or

the quick flick
of a chickadee

across the yard
and onto a branch.

They don't do
much. That's for

others. They know
how to take things

for granted, know
what to miss.

Every morning
they make breakfast.

And when the sun
sets, they let it go.

"The Neighbors" by Jack Ridl. Text as published in Practicing to Walk Like a Heron (Wayne State University Press, 2013). © Wayne State University Press. Reprinted by permission of the poet.

Art credit: Untitled image by unknown photographer.