Passing of Time

Passing of Time Caught up, time to exploit. Hours to utilize, with what? Jump into my time machine, that’s what, give it free rein. To the Blue mountain. Swim in the pool with the boys Make a good stroke or two, then into the good book. Now no particular place to go. No particular agenda, plan to fill. No particular good reason to, just slip into the saddle an do. Let my pony rear up, run wild across a couple of empty hours. Those moments slipped into twilight. A snow white, almost full, moon hangs low in a bright indigo sky. Sitting along side the Pitt dyke. Observe the moon crawl upwards, to the south west across the shadowy branches of a standing alone tree. Helios having none of this moon sets the south west horizon ablaze, fire flickering among the trees, to see while this one sits in the saddle waiting, watching, time for supper. A Wendy’s spicy chicken will fill an empty space, in me, not time. That would necessitate something spiritual. Something intellectually stimulating. Something that would express artistic flair. Something that would bring one’s soul to light. B. J. “A ” 2 November 23rd, 2023