Morning on That Hill

Towhees and scrub jays
Making a ruckus
And a woodpecker
Or nuthatch drilling
Somewhere out of sight—

A scruffy forest
On desert mesa
Is its own busy
City some mornings,
It just takes a lot

Of species to make
As much bustle as
A human village.
You’re not so different
From this world’s other

Squabbling and hungry
Byproducts, you’re just
So damned numerous
And concentrated.
Domestication

Suits you well, but still,
It’s good to recall,
You’re not the only
Hubbub, good or ill.
Don’t die on that hill.