Taking comfort from the simple things

And in the end, the simple things: 

The buck beneath the holly tree, the rain, 

The sea and sky, the thistles tossing seeds 

To add more prickles to the lawn, 

The spiders in their webs, 

And the hummingbird whose ruby throat 

Still flashes at the feeder — 

The days come down to this, and so 

We learn to watch and wait for this 

Horrific year to pass, while taking comfort 

From the timelessness of that which seems 

Untouched by our catastrophes.