Some days, I see that I am capable:
I can love the ant,

I can love the squirrel.
Most days, it’s easier not to,

to let the heart open and close 
its leathery valves only so far.  

Not wide enough for the full-fledged joy 
that comes skimming past some evenings, 

so quickly I wonder if it was just
kids making all that noise—

but all I see, stepping out 
into the graying light

is the ant on the doorframe, 
arching and bowing, 

arching and bowing to the evening.

Bio: Nina Lindsay