It was as though
the Santa Ana winds
came suddenly
in the night
so that in the morning
I sneezed
and again
the warm air
now alive
pollen
and whatever
more
yet the
stilled air
the mountains
like
one of those
super realism paintings
the spine of LA
with the march of peaks
holding back
the onslaught of sand
the Mojave beyond
we nestled on this side
the Pacific
holding us at bay
and all those writers
poets and artists
for years at the break
of dawn
tapping their hearts out
filling their blogs
for who?
they only hoped
an audience?
awaiting the words
to spill over
as the coffee brewed
we had our favorites
always open for
just one more
the mundane
made holy
as minds reached out
for kindred spirits
to share the moment
a place in time
this time
our time
on this mote
of rock
we call Earth
then someone blinked
who? I don’t know
but time caught up
with some
as if a cane
excused one so
others never held
onto anything for long
so letting go
for them
was as natural
as it is
for me
to hold on tight.
No comments:
Post a Comment