JOY

 JOY.

Smoke

curls

shyly,

silky wisps,

embrace brilliant blue.

Two clay, olden day, chimney stacks,

Send a warming message

skyward.

I saunter along my stone-pitted way, and marvel

at a new concrete

footpath.

Council reclaiming its right to

blanket earth.

What a joy It will be for mothers wheeling strollers, and babies catching a sky view,

A joy for kids on bicycles,

 tinkling bells, too.

And a joy for those in wheelchairs,

beetling along the landscape

joined by those with walkers,

leaves flying in their windy wake.

I prefer the rutted, brown earth,

connecting

me to ground.

Apply censorship to this thought.

Learn to be stable.

Do not trip up or I ‘ll be found,

broken and in pieces, blinking upward, on a mound.

VGow

Chaotic Fibonacci.

11/06/19