A rainy morning,
all over town the acacia is in bloom.
But no one is out to notice.
The predictability of a familiar
place is a comfort. And a bore.
Things lose their magic,
surprise is everything. Discovery.
I try to make exploration part of my life.
Nothing glamorous. No poles,
or new continents. A street I realize
I’ve never driven down before,
where I might see the last farm house
holding out against development,
something new in bloom,
an unexpected foxglove or hollyhock.
Sometimes I go out just to explore,
to make sure I really look
at what there is to see.