Patterns and connections

You ask me what I see.

 I see patterns, and connections: 

Not just the spread wings of the cormorant,

 But the echo of his posture and his beak; 

Not just the round dots of the bolts,

 But their echoes, the ways that they repeat; 

Not just the verticals of the wood, 

But the stripes lent by the weather, 

By the guano, and by their aging from the salt. 

To me, these things become a symbol 

Of the ways we’re all connected;

 How our worries and delights echo 

Across the span of time and race, 

Gender, nationality, and party affiliation: 

A reminder that we’re each unique, 

Yet alike in many more ways 

Than we’ll ever understand.