I place myself within the demographic
which insists there is no such thing —
there are many of us here,
defying all kinds of norms,
blind, no doubt,
to all our glaring similarities

I imagine there are others
who yearn to fit precisely in some group,
who find comfort in belonging
even in a spectrum

Ah, how I squandered moments
back at the cafe´, observing others,
placing them in boxes
where they certainly don’t fit.
Now, at sun’s last light, the geese
take up their chorus across the field,
surely more attuned
than I have been.

©Wendy Mulhern
February 6, 2018