Morning Vista Poem by Leonard Dabydeen

I let the door reel on its tracks
like a push cart at a grocery store
just to listen to a black-feathered bird
tweeting
in her sweet lilting echo;
her repetitive note is a fluting call
heralding the flock
prancing up and down sycamore trees;
now a racoon comes hopping along
on top of the fence
stops abruptly to look at me
lifting a paw to scratch its head;
why does it look so puzzled
I am yet to know
maybe I look familiar
who knows what I look like;
I watch swaying trees
lulling in cool breeze in the ravine
where a train track beds on the other side
where the grass is fresh and green
I, too, now scratch my head
it’s a morning thing to do
waiting for a freight train.