It wasn’t the cantaloupe at breakfast
or the blue bridge spanning the highway
on our way to this retreat.
It was the black-paper hawk warning the small
birds in the russian olives just outside the window
to stop before they hit the glass,
no matter if the oranges on the table called them
Life has its boundaries,
the hawk said. It is not
always air and light
and free flight over the arroyos
You enjoy such freedom you do not even know
how free you are, how free you’ve been.
Stop at this glass. Here.
You have space enough
You have no need to come inside.
With an M.A. in American poetry, Mary Dudley then earned a Ph.D. in early child development. She writes about and works with young children, their families, and teachers. She’s published three chapbooks of poetry and her poems have appeared in a number of collections, including Zingara Poetry Review.