he ponders

he ponders, he sits and he ponders

what did, what if, why didn’t
time passes and it now lingers on
movement is active in the synapse
but the body sits dormant
he lives vicariously

he writes about what he thinks

what he sees and hears,
reads about what has occurred
somewhere, sometime and by
someone else. the earth moves
yet he sits still, pondering

listen. rumbling, rolling wheels

on rail tracks. the sound approaches
from somewhere afar. an engine whistle
blows, the heavy car on railroad tracks
steel wheels on steel rails shrill
to a squeal followed by a thrust of air
escaping from hydraulic brakes

from inside the belly of these

moving cars scurry out bipedal beings
and waiting to fill their space
queues of others herd themselves
into the now empty cars of the locomotive
taking them somewhere,
leaving someone and some place

sitting, his legs crossed like Hemmingway

the brim of his hat now shadow
his eyes. he observes the scampering
people rambling about like worker ants

a whistle blows and a loud release

escapes the compressed steam
the rolling wagon on steel wheels
moves on to that somewhere place
as he sits there, pondering

 

chrysanthemums in Spring

walking out to greet the day

unknown to what will come my way
the wind whispers through leaves of trees,
a waft of a lilac bush brings forth
a long and cleansing sneeze

a burst of laughter I then release

hiding anguish and sadden tears
a purging of jagged edges in my soul
where guilt resided and placed on hold

the fingers of the sun Spring the day

touches all in a radiance kind of way
and like a child carefree out at play
my spirit of verve is here to stay

bring to me your breath of fresh

tears of joy in morning dew
let me feel mother natures’ earth
under my feet free of shoes

this day speaks of the good and averse

in life like a shawl  o’er my shoulders
a chrysanthemum with my own hands
is knit and woven in, a symbol of
the elixir of immortality in the I Ching