Every day.
Every day on a cold but virtually snowless day,
Cold engines struggle to turn over and that old term from
the adverts “cold cranking power” crosses our mind for only the second time in
a decade.
Every day.
Bone chilling winds push past power lines and into the
broken seams and missing buttons of this coat I hoped would last just one more
season.
Every day.
The temperature rises and falls cording to the vagaries
of high and low-pressure systems.
On a March morning in the north country a solitary person
walking in the world can either choose to ignore the grinding of gears percolating
above the whistling of the wind;
Or that sole figure on grey concrete walking can take it
all in and have their senses filled with nature and with humankind’s artificial
strategies like cars and central heating striking a blow against weather and manual
labor.
Every day.
The remnants of color from summer can be seen on brightly
colored deck chairs stacked in side yards leaning against the garage.
Every day.
A smattering of shades from bell shaped blossoms are popping
up from out the hard-cold frozen earth to tell you that spring is promised.
Every day.
The machinations of humankind are innumerable. Our
resistance of the universe is a fool’s errand.
Every day.
A solitary being must find a reason to be to exist,
Must find a reason to touch the world,
Must find a reason to give or take.
Every day.
In bright sunlight on white pavement a solitary figure’s
feet carry him forward.
Every day.
No comments:
Post a Comment