This former ocean bottom could be called Flatland
Where anything above has been constructed by humans
Beginning with the shells piled up years ago in mounds
Dwarfed now by all the limestone shell poured into concrete
Flatland is a mathematical place of the imagination
Where only two spatial dimensions are known to exist
Perceived as reality in the limited awareness of the residents
Who nevertheless have a logical explanation for everything
As we sat to dinner in our screened-in porch this evening
Watching the subtropical sunset turn the clouds pink
I heard crickets chirping nearby that you did not
And you heard a distant wren call that I did not
Reminding us we too have limited awareness
Like Flatlanders experiencing only what we can sense
Otherwise unaware of all that is happening
More so as we age and our senses fade
And yet we notice so much that others do not
Because we are free to frequent nature preserves
Because we listen carefully while looking around us
Because birdwatching takes our full attention
This present moment that seemed endless in our youth
Now compressed into our limited time remaining
Invites us into the natural world outside ourselves
Aware of the existential dimension in which we live
