October 15, 1991
Scattered images flicker,
as an evening passes:
Leaves riding the rain,
in a bittersweet farewell;
A singer’s warmth beamed
to thousands of vehicles;
Ghosts swinging from strings
in a Halloween display;
Sakharov’s casket carried
in a documentary;
A boy brimming with youth,
delivering news on
A Union birthing nations,
eight thousand miles away.
To work-weary eyes,
strained and myopic,
Just routine impressions
of another hectic day.
But these are the pulses
of the unfolding cosmos,
The eddies and streams of
forces and formations.
Being a mere ripple
in this dazzling array
Is to be soaked to the core
with a quintessential gift.
Copyright © Carol Mays | Year Posted 2019
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