Dave Bonta's poem begins as a quiet watch on a spring or summer day: a wren cleaning its bill on a roof, its mate already sitting on a second clutch, a catbird singing, a deer sneezing in the weeds. Small, ordinary moments, noticed with affection. Then clouds arrive, "innocent enough" until they open their "rainy mouths," a faint hint of unease.
Midway through, the language shifts. The catbird gives "instructions for assembly," and the poem starts borrowing the vocabulary of reports and graphs: "Figure 1," "trend lines," the "z axis." The title, "Illustrative," seems to point at this blend of nature and diagram. Nature and data blur together, and the game trails heading toward a cliff edge suggest something a little ominous, whether waves or traffic wait below.
The speaker ends up small and slightly comic, wandering with a stick, "hunting my lost appetite." The mood is wry, watchful and a bit melancholy, as if the speaker is searching for a way back into wanting things.