What’s happening now, is this a life event
I’m supposed to take meaningful note of?
ignore the bunched up plastics, everyday stuff -
the radio chat on women and consent,
the eerie empty roads, the small sounds made
by a metal bubble as it skims along;
your hands on the wheel, understated strength
of man and machine at one; paltry shade
offered by palms, that the windshield fails to hold
like passing hands unable to get a grip
on glass, inscrutably smooth. Instinct’s fit
just to claw the trivial till it’s further palled.
The turn comes and passes, should it merit
a song and dance? well, I haven’t marked it.
This is the last write-it-as-it-comes post for sometime. I am travelling and will be offline more often than I like :) There are posts scheduled of course, and I will catch up with you as and when I can beg/borrow/organise a connection. Enjoy the poetry here and in the season/world wherever you are. Stay well!