Say that poetry requires observation,
Then the finch that gathers itself out of the pebbles
And bursts into my sight is to me
As those that Darwin saw,
Giving form to thought,
As “hawthorn” lifts the berries’ bright orange veil
As “pinnate” shapes the walnut’s spreading leaf.

The drifting cloud, the daffodil unfurling–
stratiform and tepal:
The world made word, and back again.