All Lives Living

Noticing is inspiring.

Perhaps it’s only inspiring

when you’re really noticing

all lives living.

Noticing the homeless man who soundly sits

on his makeshift chair,

hood on his lowered head,

hands in his tattered pockets,

eyes peeking in intervals

inspired by … I’m not sure.

And, I look around to notice

what he might be noticing.

Noticing the tuxedo cat who soundly sleeps

under the porch’s rocking chair,

black hair swallowing winter’s sunrays,

snores rumbling the still air,

eyes peeking in intervals

inspired by … I’m not sure.

And, I look around to notice

what she might be noticing.

Noticing the goddess elder who soundly saunters

toward the moment’s wave,

walker’s wheels strumming,

pristine pink outfit shimmering,

eyes peeking in intervals

inspired by … I’m not sure.

And, I look around to notice

what she might be noticing.

Noticing is inspiring.

Perhaps it’s only inspiring

when you’re really noticing

all lives living.

What are you noticing?

Add your own stanzas to this poem.