You

Jesse Doiron

October 5, 2025

I sat outside today,

and leaned back on my hands

so that I could look straight up—

into the sky,

at the clouds;

at a bird that fell,

suddenly

spiraling earthward;

at a berserk bumble bee

lost in the azure air—

despairing for a flower;

at a helplessly windblown butterfly,

a fragile, fluttering thing

made mostly of trembling

translucent wings;

at a furiously

distraught dust-devil

in a dervish hurry

to where?

At the faint,

blue-stained outline

of the gibbous moon 

soon to be so white

and full;

and, of course,

at our own yellowy,

hydrogen star

raging . . . love.

Today, I sat outside

and leaned back on my hands

so that I could look straight up—

into the sky.

And I saw you.

 Jesse Doiron has worked in Europe, the Middle East, and Asia as an educator and consultant. His teaching experience ranges from English for international business at the UC – Berkeley Extension in San Francisco to creative writing at the Mark Stiles Maximum Security Prison for the Texas Department of Criminal Justice.