Do you ever wonder why certain sounds call to you?
How the sound of a mourning dove makes my ears perk, my head turn,
But for you, it may have somehow escaped your knowing.
Perhaps, for you, your eyes are catching the glimmer of sun reflecting off the metal of the hand rail,
While for me, that’s something I’ll miss.
There is so much happening and our body can only digest so much information.
Because of each unique build, we take in that which we are attracted to,
All different, all changing.
So I don’t know why I just happen to look up every time the car in front of me has leer written on its trunk window.
Or why I often find myself catching glimpses of mini rainbows hovering over street signs.
I don’t know why I saw that injured boy being carried off of the boat, his face red and swollen, his mother inconsolable,
While you sat reading the magazine, never seeing that swift moment of painstaking life.
But what I trust, is that each occurrence that pulls me is the world talking to me,
Sometimes even making love to me.
Calling me back again and again.