June 2020
Author's Note: I've always been happy to be in a quiet place, usually alone,
so I can think. Kayaking on stillwater, noting the transition of the seasons, especially
winter to spring, or just sitting in the dark, my favorite music playing softly, enjoying
the stillness. But there's always a bit of silliness, as in the third poem.
unfrozen in time
free from winter's prison
patient lilac bulbs
stir to life, stretching
dormant becomes vivant
drab slips into vibrant
pastel green of stem
dissolves to purple blossoms
offered gratis ad omnibus
roots wander from brown husks
white underground whiskers
that rise to emerald stalks
spring moving into summer
night stills
kayak knows the tides
knows the currents sliding below
that pull or push against him
except for those quiet moments
twice daily pauses called the stills
when the flow stops
gathers strength for the return
giving no resistance to choice
or to direction
mind knows the rhythm
knows how the currents of the day
slide below the surface
pulling or pushing against thought
knows too the ebb and flow of dreams
subconscious tides of fear and desire
knows the treasured moments
in the still of the night
between the busy day and soft sleep
when the flow of everything ceases
imagination floats freely
or sits in meditative peace
before the world around begins
its moon-mad rush anew
robbed of country
age has stripped him
of his citizenship
set him adrift on a sea
he daily creates
no longer in control of
the road from bed to bath
he has no fixed place
no safe harbor any more
he has become
incontinent
©2020 j.lewis
Editor's Note: If this poem(s) moves you please consider writing to the
author (email address above) to tell her or him. You might say what it is about the poem that moves you. Writing to the author is what builds the community at Verse Virtual.
It is very important. -JL