The peregrine’s flight, obscure
From speed the eye can’t clearly see,
Takes life in the air, fast and pure.
The wings of the bumble bee
Carry its rotund yellow and black
With aimless invisibility.
Fish beneath frozen ice lack
Form and color and disappear
When seen and don’t come back.
Words are noise and letters blear —
Their insensatenesses inure
Us to understanding. What’s clear
Is unseen, or if seen, a blur.
