I listen to my son practice the cranial nerves, spinal anatomy
the physiologies of the eyes and ears and I think
so little about breathing
the way birds must not think about wings
the way small birds in winter breathe one hundred
two hundred times to my twenty I’m not
thinking about prayer as I watch crows shuffle
on the roof of the retirement home across the street
and I’m not thinking about hearing when
the names of the three small ear bones
sound like a trinity
Jeanie Tomasko