All depends on how you look at

It’s not my circus, it’s not my monkeys.
Societal dogma leaves me hungry,
For spiritual silence, nature’s refuge.
Meditation’s a disciplined menu.
Peering into the eyes of a shy cat,
Who looks back, friendly chat, that’s where it’s at.
Squirrels chasing each other up a tree,
Pursuing that elusive nut, life’s keys.
If I hear the wind whisper, I’m lucky.
Hawks soaring high, NOW that’s my “monkeys.”