There is a crab apple tree in bloom right outside my window. When I glance up I am likely to see a tufted titmouse, a cheery little gray bird with round black eyes, hopping from branch to branch directly in front of me. He is hoping to find a juicy little insect among the blossoms. Another time I might see a fat bee buzzing around between the pollen soaked petals. The blue sky peeks through, winking at me. What was it I was trying to get done?
watching the titmouse
in the blooming crab apple;
my day's work
(P.S. If you work where I work, please know that this is purely poetic license; I certainly do NOT ease off my rigorous work habits for a silly little thing like blossom gazing. That would be preposterous. It's just a poem.)