Grasshopper Legs
It's quiet tonight only the witterings
of grasshopper legs for company.
The sun has dipped leaving dark
blue tones with slate grey slabs
spanning the horizon. The pool is
motionless, orange balls sit like
flames on water, reflections of the
rustic village lamps.
This is the time I sit with my God
and ask him of the day, a day of
days like so many have passed.
In the emptiness I pass words, ask
questions, try and readdress the
significance of my existence. To
this point I am like everyone else,
but cannot help feeling I am like
no other.
I toil with many aspects, love, faith,
humanity to name a few, on the edge
a smiling face , inside chewed, torn
by a lifetime of compromises dealt
by fates hand. Some may say you
are too late in life to be asking,
accept, but is not acceptance
giving in to the mundane.
So I pick myself and my conscience
up and head for home, leaving the
wittering of grasshopper legs to mull
over the unanswered questions, for I
am sure he was not there, never has
been in the past, but the next quiet
time I will try again, as we all do
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