No More than Four

It may take some time for our water 

based eyes to adjust 

                                   in the dry air

and filter out what it needs not.

The first train blares its horn 

          as it pulls through the sleepy town

tucked inside the fluffy grey marine layer.

The Amtrack gains its momentum 

          and kicks up clay sand in dusty billows,

                         while we lie stoic in its wake. 

A little later today,

as usual.

When we come out of our nocturnal coma

we start straight away, stacking up tasks, 

                                   left and right foot,

breathe and blink,                     -stretch

and then 

the mind quickens to find more 

                                         just to say

                                   no more than four

things at one time...

No way.

If I had five children- 

why the pinkie and not the thumb?

If I could split my brain in two,

perhaps I could keep track of eight...

Why the biggest brain 

                                if we are so dumb?

This one time, the same as today

while walking to the market,

                                   left, right, left, 

bread, bananas, cheese, water...

I heard the train coming,this was the light Coaster 

and I knew it was only 10 to 3.

I have time-I remember-I thought-

I smile at the passers-by, a grandmother with child, 

                                                  umbrella for the sun, 

a leash leading to a tiny dog and multiple bags in tow.

With my hand plunged into my shallow pocket 

I think I have not enough money 

                                                 for the bread. 

                    Sweat beads built on my brow

and instead of going this way,

                         corruption of a lovely day-

a needed

interruption, a line break in my path.

Now

the copper church bells peal back from atop St. Patrick's tower

and I listen in silence...

four more

Still 

my heart beats,  

with a falling 

                       bead of warm water on my cheek,

                                        and I remember to breathe.

*The number Four is based on an article from brainfacts.org.

Photo credit By "self-made" in  [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

The scenery in between

All the faces
in their cars, stopping, going
to and from
look so tired and miserable-
like they are being drug around,
he noticed.
When people walk,
they participate in the traveling.

Going Places,
she said
Look at him,
now he's going somewhere
and his air was lighter
the wind was with him
as they say.

Have you walked anywhere
without a destination,
and seen what's between
point B and A
(where are those located anyway)?

This thing stumbled upon
called ambling along-

not to ramble on too long
but wandering is no easy thing-

thankfully though,

it requires no licensed training.
Practice, yes,
lots of pedestrian practice,
yet even pacing is prior
enough preparation

for lack of destination.

The art of the amble:

when out walking
in a leisurely way
one can confidently say
I went somewhere today
without a point.




Image By Stupich, Martin, creator, Weeping Wall, Flathead County MT[Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

A soul on a stroll

Along the Path
we must go alone.
Yet things catch our eye,
glisten just so in the sun.
Sometimes we stop to linger
a little, thinking about beauty...
But we move on
when the light changes.

Along the path,
we must go alone.
We meet many others, new faces
walking and join company
for some paces, for a time-
until their path goes another way,
to a place that is not our own
destination.

Along the path
we must go alone.
Milestones remind us to push
ahead, rest before it gets steep,
and don't chance a glance back.
Footprints fall behind,
markers of the past,
so we don't go in circles
if we are aware
of our surroundings.

Along the path,
monsters lurk in the dark shoulders,
watching the moon guide your steps,
unable to penetrate your light.
You may have to change direction,
many times, but you will know
where you are,
you have seen-This before.
When you arrive There
remember, you will know
Why, Then
we must go alone.




Image by Allen Butler Talcott [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons, Path through the woods.

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).