This poem first appeared in the Winter 2025 issue of Door Is A Jar.
Scott reading this poem at the Door Is A Jar winter 2025 launch event.
After 35 too-quick minutes
driving through warm morning fog,
I walk around to the passenger side
for my lunch and work bag.
Before touching the handle
a blue jay calls in its smoke-throaty way,
drawing my attention
to the otherwise quiet woods
that start
at the edge of the blacktop.
For the entire drive
(and sleepless night before)
I plotted my day,
rehearsing another attempt
to help them see
there's more to consider than
only what they see.
So tempting to leave it all
in the car and disappear
into the secret shroud of trees
who expect nothing.
And I'd have gone, too,
had I not worn my nice shoes.
Scott McConnaha 