Reciting what’s on my mind,
in the same vein,
a similar wave

Around those corners
again, colors seen before,
yesterday’s song on the breeze

What’s new,
or old but newly seen,
or rarely ridden?

Atop looking down
I brace against a steep dive
aloft in the timberline

There’s water in the wind tunnel,
hot pellets belt my face,
sting then drip warm, turning cool

In S-curves at high speeds,
aimed for the apex of the turn each time,
carefully – blending quickly

You are only the gap between fingertips
away from me now, hold on
but the waters let go

I once stood in awe at a sepulcher
for someone I would never have known
if not for you

The water washes away chalky words on the ground
that once appeared to have so much meaning
so soon right before the rains

Boxcars and oxtails, firelights along rails
where hope emblazons faces seen
still from so far away

Hear songs from a fell
in the forest, dark evergreen
intervals of tone – listen

There beyond lies the hem of time
weaving an edge, unraveling
the fabric ahead

I heard her by the pool say she was 55,
her boy was 9 – had older brothers near 30,
and their relationship was a joy to witness

How long have I been
bobbing, suspended

I try to find and ride
the random but plentiful updrafts of life
naturally on offer

The immediacy of sunlight in mid-air,
in flight from out-there to us
is earth’s joy

(Pardon me, I need to step back a moment
to see if I have alit yet again
in the same vein)

Chagall 2018