indefinite uncertainty

“Whatever inspiration is, it’s born from a continuous I don’t know.” 

Why is there a hawk by the back door?

Is it a red tail? Is it asleep? Could it be sick? Why is it standing on one leg?

I wonder if it's a girl or a boy? 

Maybe it just ate breakfast and has that tired feeling that comes with a full belly?

The boys stand and watch through the window, singularly focused, all four of them. This is how we spend our days now, I guess, watching a bird sunbathe or whatever, letting wonder become a makeshift raft for the slipstream of uncertainty.

Other times we hedge against any lack of sureness with an arsenal of habits and routines that make it feel containable, controllable, workable. Maybe that's just me, actually.

We are all trying our best to cope with the fundamental precariousness of each day.

The hawk takes off, after more than an hour, and a swarm of new inquiry emerges.

All these question marks, I think, may be valuable All these I don't knows, a small phrase that seems to fly on mighty wings.

*Polish poet Wisława Szymborska, in her Nobel Prize acceptance speech.