Passing the time and musing … Is this poetry?

…Well, whatever it is, it’s a distraction right now, and a distraction is good, so onward ..

Substack has been frantic since the election … Focus has been hard to come by in my head … These little distractions are a break, so here they are, for what they’re worth.

{This one showed up right after the election — It was about all I could muster, but then more poems arose, so … }

ONE FOOT IN FRONT OF THE OTHER

I’m surprised at people.

Surprised at the sense of jeopardy

And the source of the fears.

Surprised at a sense of injury,

And the source of the resentment.

Surprised at the anger,

And the target of that ire.

Surprised at the vote.

I sit here wondering why I did not

Truly

See this coming.

The world is in disarray

In so many places.

Why not here?

Did we think we were immune?

Ah, yes, I think we did.

And we are not.

So, now,

What have we to do?

Put one foot

In front of the other.

And onward to

The best we can make of it.

———

{A day in November, as the calendar moves toward December and the official shortest day of the year.}

LIGHT-NESS

Winter’s long shadows fall

In mid-day

Onto the fading flower beds,

Across the grassy lawn,

Across the weedy hill and wooded lot

Behind the old house.

The river below our yard…

A stream, really…

Babbles over rocks in its path,

Its roiling water shadowed,

As the low-hanging sun sheds rays

More wan in the shank of the year

Than the bright sun of summer.

The water below swirls through dark pools,

But it glistens, too,

Where sun breaks through shadow…

The waters sing their way down

To meet a true river

Beyond the hill.

The sky is a shade of almost-blue,

Cloudless and pale as winter may be.

My mood meets the vision of this day,

And flows into the thin light.

I feel a sympathy with the waning,

Wondering, hoping, trusting

That spring will return,

And a bright light is still to come …

——

{For my writing group. We sometimes write to prompts — “Sometimes a job well done is its own reward” — so here’s today’s.}

REWARD

I’ve heard it said that

Sometimes a job well done

Is its own reward.

But then, again,

We really do appreciate

Our “attaboys,”

Don’t we?

A life lived in balance, I guess.

With occasional praise

Raising our spirits…

And doing good in private…

Sometimes.

Mmmmph, let’s be real.

Doing good in private is

Over-rated.

Attaboys are great.

——————————————-

{A little addendum for the sake of progress: Of course, “attagirls” are great, too. And, probably, also, “good job.”}

———

{Something just plain playful?}

A MURDER?

I thought I saw a murder of crows

In the grassy field across the way.

But when I drew close to check,

I saw

They were some sort of blue bird

Or jay,

Hmmmmh.

Not what I thought I saw at all.

Innocent until proven guilty…