Theories of Nature

Let me tell you this bright and
twisting thing. The natural world dictates

letters for its secretary
to transcribe, just as the squirrel

with the white ears takes pains to
pivot on its upstage leg, and a robin

turns sideways to imitate Alfred
Hitchcock in a cameo: I Confess.

Auteur theory is for the birds and as
curved and worn as driftwood.

Transcendence is as big as life and
twice as unnatural, if you’ll pardon

my saying, my gelid eye.
Backlash your I before you eyelash

your back. Once more with feeling:
your transcendence is none of my

beeswax. Uncertainty’s a gateway
drug; soon you’re mainlining

anodyne. If you doubt realness, try this.
Shimmy up a tree. Now fall out.

Concrete is the great leveller;
there’s no placebo like it. Tell me

what you ate for breakfast because eggs
are the central metaphors I can’t make

work, though I’ll concede
with the best birdwatchers

that boredom is the most
important meal of the day.

Arbutus Reaching by Ann-Marie Brown