A Few More Days

This is their world: seagull in heightened flight, heron low skimming, geese flocked up close among lilies, loons in tremolo warning, snakes curled long absorbing heat.   Among them now, barefoot and listening to Beethoven, first thing Sunday morning, and suddenly, all I want, is to be part of their world.   Music off, breeze picking up, the lake is stirring now.   There it is: their world, and me, thinking, and trying too hard, to find a way in.   In a few days.   In a few days, limbs and breath, in tranquil stretching, loose and deep, will be floating effortlessly, in our world.

Suddenly There

A life of hard,

against rock,

metal,

earth,

moving big and fast,

without thought,

of imminent crash.

 

Stationary objects,

suddenly there,

for me to find,

in collision,

and now,

my body,

in sweet response,

to a life of hard,

is whispering,

enough.

Tendrils

Tendrils of time,

wrapped round

the ankles,

and,

in a blink,

change the pace.

Looking Up

Do I write about

star light,

a buried body,

or getting old?

 

Looking over

the brewing choices,

there seems to be

a theme:

 

Light that takes

light years to reach us,

moving through

molecules of time,

unwavering in its destiny:

to shine.

 

A dream

of a body buried

beneath tons of sand,

knowing it would be

found someday:

what we conceal

will inevitably

be uncovered,

unwavering in its purpose:

to enlighten.

 

Getting old,

the accumulated wear,

reaching muscle and bone,

slowing us down,

so we must stop,

looking up,

waiting for the secret of light,

to be revealed.

 

All of it

leading me to this:

faith,

in star light,

in messages from within,

and in whatever it is

that holds me together,

as I stop,

long enough,

to finally see.

Photo: Leigh Pumilia