Two steps

You are ahead of me.
I have your back
in sight
while dutifully following
your lead I am left
wondering how far behind
I will be left
looking for your steps
and contemplate your hurried
gait-

Need you sprint
in such fits and starts?

My heart gets louder
the further I am
from the life
I chase.

I can picture your intense
forward focus
and broad shoulders
pushing through
the warning signs.

It becomes easy to forget
you are not alone
without shadows for solace
without trepidation
for what lies
around the bend
and without a sense of where
and why we started
this journey
together.

You win.
I will take my time
and keep going without a
wasted scent.
The finish line
was not my destination
anyway
we will be tied
in the End.


Painting by Giovanni Boldini (1842-1931), 'The Summer Stroll' in Public Domain. 

a lone path way

some thing stirs
out there
with out us
with in
we name hope
hanging on
be came
pulling up
our gaze
only then
some thing
in finite
may be
seen.


Photo credited by Carol M. Highsmith, Santa Catalina Island, 2012 in [Public domain].

Noon at the lagoon

I tried to walk it off
                               (instead of keeping me in)
                             heading afoot toward the lagoon
                                     (a Tuesday at noon)
For peace sake,
                        with the marine layer pushed back
                            convinced, I headed onshore
                        (at times against the salty breeze)
Attacking it sideways
                       and I knew my grandfather would have said
                                              Invictus-perhaps
                                                  (I plod on)
Not exercising, I stood out,
                         with my pedestrian thoughts
                                       (aimless wandering)
                             but I find sense sometimes...
At the lagoon, bright blue-green
                          speckled with orange
                          Garibaldi all along the riff-raff
Ah-the smell! Simply incredible, soulfully edible,
                         (through rose colored glasses)
                                        savory and savoring the solitude...
And I did find what I was not looking for-
                                        On cue-loudly from the rocks below
                                        a ground squirrel stood chirping, erect,
                                        ear piercing, his body jolting- he sung
                                        (bellowing for none)
Happy with his little self,
                                         a lone mammal on the precipice
                                         squawking on a Tuesday
because he had something good to say,
in a barking beechey marmot way.
                                          I think he said I should stop
                                          (chip) monking-around
                                          I heard him, loud and clear.

Missed the train

Pistons pop up and pump
left-right-left-in-even-time
while in passing
they debate the state of
why and wheretofore-
Two for-what?
to four? two ate? a double-date?
Wait-it went-two-four-eight
Not too for, but eight
is enough
Past two, past four, not from
Four to eight
four
two
8
or not
via
loco-
motive
One walks
once in a while
by two, by two.



Image by unknown author, c. 1879, [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Take a load off

Shame on the pointless ponderer

                       whose head grew too heavy

dizzy mind map wanderer

                       enticed not by common sense

busy beaver built levee

Stuck in a rut

plant your butt

Condemn the lazy chair inventor

                        who created a place of rest

a couch for his brain to grow even more

                        putting lack of experience to the test

Backseat driver

idle kaniver

So in a nation full of sitters

we've sat in vain judgement

blaming the doers as the quitters

cross-legged, pointing fingers, elbow bent

Scapegoat herder

Jaw jabber

Those planners, thinkers, fact formulators

never do, or make or creates

but instead ideate, re-sit-uate, idea incubate

proposing possibilities about probable states

Fast talking

no walking

A nation of sitters

with notions of jitters

who can't sit still

unless they take a pill

caffeine Willies

nervous Nellies

Image photo by Pierre Petit [Public domain or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons of Hector Berlioz, (1803-1869).