Being Human

The day arrives
I hold it’s hand
we lumber about
together on a pathway
where others also dawdle
They pass by not seeing us
as they tend to their cyber-link toy
in their hand unaware of life
abounding about them

I stop to observe and enjoy
the daily playful display
of chipping sparrows,
cardinals and blue jays
flying from tree to tree
Squirrels and their chipmunk cousins
scurrying about playing tag
They notice me and stop and sit
upright on their haunches
watching me watch them
The crimson of cardinals
the blue of the jays
the brown and black of the sparrows
are a colorful attire perched
on white capped otherwise baron limbs
of undressed trees on this wintry day

I turn around to go back inside the warmth of my abode
Awaiting me is my favorite reclining chair
and my entertainment implement of choice
where I can exist vicariously
in the likes of Keats, Shelley,
Poe and Emily, Pat Conroy or Sam Harris,
Amy Chua and Sherry Turkle
The crackle of logs burning
wildly waving it's orange and yellow flames
warming the side of my face
as Chopin tickles those ivory's in my ears

On my lap the gentle chest compressions
of my small canine children
sharing my warmth of space
whilst the heart beat of my partner
sits next to me drifting into her world of erudition
sated by the whimsy of fiction
We appreciate our human presence
the life that warms our laps
and not an email, text or twitter
or a cybernating avatar