Nature Has No Goals for Itself

_____“Put even a fool in front of the window and you’ll get a Spinoza.”
_____– Nicole Krauss

Nothing so wrong
with sitting still
to watch, some days,
when rain keeps falling
farther from the sky,
weeds keep stretching
farther from the ground,
the neighborhood dog,
forgetting all loyalty,
crosses highways in traffic
like the adopted son he is,
while you reflect
your genius
in the glass.

Nothing so wrong
with staying where you are,
waiting on cause
and effect to roust you
from your chair,
mathematical as rain
or blades of grass,
inevitable as a dog
digging after some first home.
At least, you think,
there is no sliding from this spot
where you belong, not now,
when everything is –
lucid as a photograph.

And yet,
the dog begins
to look like you
through glare
and shadow
on the pane
you thought was clear.
The bell
on his collar
jingles close to your ear,
of something you meant,
or were meant,
to do.