Walls divide the day.
In one box I sit,
another box for sleep,
fabric divides skin from sun,
page, stanza, paragraph
like pantry shelves
stocked with words,
an alphabetical world
sorted, ascending with
one key stroke,
the brain a file cabinet--
drawers stick--dates,
addresses, passwords,
and promises.

Linnaeus named everything
binomially distinct from all others
but the falcon knows its prey
by shape, size, color, a flash of light
in dark foliage.