I walk through a neighborhood
I’ve lived by all my life and never have seen
Low sun kissing autumn leaves
the birds gaze at me overhead
As I go from house to house: no one home
All the political rhetoric, my own visions
of the future, fade as the strong
silence speaks of so many astonishingly different
lives, congregations, bubbles of authentic existence
I check another NH box, and my communist dreams shudder
I'm beginning to understand this
notion of small government, I feel
wild individualism growing like a rash
around me, smug and complacent
“Good fences make good neighbors”
smiling contentedly at me
Government is now such a tiny fragment of these peoples’, anyone’s, life
Me, a solicitor — a trespasser —
wading through the peace of sunset
And it's so sad; even for a romance, these days,
its health requires some rugged independence
I get home and run for my lonely, lonely life
Month: October 2008
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Canvasing
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The scene dimmed with a gentle rush of wind as the leaves fell into the stream The dreamlike matte blurring of the surface as the sunken leaves glowed like gems All the while, soft droplets innocently danced with their distinctive expansion everywhere Followed by heavier drops, deeper, not intrusive — on another level, ringing out — And the kersplash and the wake of my dog causing huge ripples, yet still harmonious with all the beautiful blustery co–action Wispy winds brush over the water with their own tickling touch The wind and a pleasant rain come up from behind me, pushing me towards the vast coverage of webs of undulations all clearly distinct, all meshing together in a beautiful, delicious, mystifying fall day of fetch
Fall Fetching
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