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
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