Lark, Wall, and Peach Tree

We should not talk of small things
That are not ours, that don’t bring
Your thoughts to what must be done

To save your world, right your wrongs,
To take note of what life’s like
When it’s not all birds and trees,

As if birds and trees are sweet,
Too sweet, to speak of these days.
Past the wall, there’s a fine haze

Of dust from road work. Past that,
There’s a lake that’s shrunk from drought.
Past that, there’s news of armed states

That move like slow tanks of ants
To get a grip on the earth.
Talk of those things. There you are.

And that bird that sings, that tree
That just greened, all the small things
That seem too sweet in this yard?

Why do you think that bird sings?
How does a peach tree grow here?
Look at those ants on the wall.