Dave Bonta pairs short prose reflections with two haiku, and the whole piece circles one idea: what it means to be present, and how that can mean being unnoticed. In the first section, a winter tree seems to lose its presence. With its leaves gone, it becomes something like a cardboard cutout, a blank surface where we project our own thoughts. The haiku about leaves lying on a park bench gives this a gentle, slightly funny image, as if the season itself were sleeping off a long night.
The second section turns warmer. The speaker mentions Denise Levertov's poem about animals ignoring a human, then describes real encounters: a doe, a beaver, turkeys, small creatures at night. Here, being unnoticed feels like a gift, and the speaker sounds humbled and grateful. The closing haiku, with a flying squirrel as a "hole between the stars," is quiet and strange. The mood is hushed, curious, and content, with presence found in fading into the background.