I too pretend that my comfort
is no part of any war--
yet the globe shivers
when a small bird
lands on a twig,
one living part of a tree
with roots spread deep,
knotted into the soil. So
when a wren alights, war
roars somewhere in the world.

There's no side to a sphere;
it has one skin. Spider webs
shiver when rain or wind
stirs the air we share. Mistakes,
miss steps--know this,
time zones are not real.