It is the details you notice.
Small things that others don’t read
quite the same way.
It is kind of a math,
adding them up, those details,
to see something larger.
And so, you wait. You watch.
There is no need to hurry or judge.
You’d rather know.
And the knowing is always in the details.
About this poem.
I am a watcher. A listener. I don’t come to conclusions quickly. And in the end, it’s always the details that tell the tale.
PS: The picture was taken at Bedlam Farm, in nearby New York State. Ages ago.