The Time It Takes to See – a poem by Sam Aureli

The Time It Takes to See

I’ve started keeping seed out:
black oil sunflower for the finches,
millet for the juncos, safflower
for whoever shows up hungry.
I’ve learned the cardinals come early,
or not at all,
and the chickadees, will take
from my palm if I hold still long enough,
forget I’m a person,
remember I’m part of this.
I know who sings at dawn
and who calls at dusk.
The mourning dove’s hollowed song
carries just right in the slant of late afternoon,
and the blue jay, that loud-mouth bully,
still gets first pick.
There was a time I never noticed,
when the world was only noise and hurry.
But I’m changing with time—
drawn closer to the ground,
to the pulse of wings and seed and song.
Sometimes I talk to them like neighbors,
like old friends.
And sometimes, yes, I cry,
when the hummingbird shows up again,
because I thought it gone for good.

Sam Aureli is a design and construction professional, originally from Italy, now calling the Boston area home. A first-generation college graduate, he’s spent decades immersed in concrete and steel. Poetry is what truly feeds his soul these days. With retirement still a decade away, Sam balances the grind of his day job with the refuge he finds in writing. His work has appeared in The Atlanta Review, West Trade Review, Underscore Magazine, Chestnut Review, Stanchion Magazine, and other literary journals.