How do you write about
what you don't know?
Through observation of daily
contact and comments?
I have noted the comments,
"I don't know what I am doing."
Discussions are often started by
"Do you remember?" and then
a struggle, by me to call forth
an answer to that question.
A question from me, in return,
as I try to "pin down" who or what.
A wrong guess is accompanied by
a "No, No, No" and a waving of hands.
Sometimes, I am lucky, in my guess,
but mostly I am not. I do try
to use a process of elimination but
the asking of questions, by me, brings
a response of "I don't know:; I can't
remember." Frustrating for us both.
Every day brings a new adventure
in this our life's journey.
spirals downward; caught
by the dust in the trees,
then burrows into the
piles of scattered leaves.
Life goes on, as Sun rays
spill toward the sheltered ground.
There is a golden silence
for the wind blows, not now.
It will resume in morning
hours, before the Rooster crows;.
Life is beautiful when you
hear the Songbird sing
about a song and ring
of light, from the Sun above
filled with warmth
and with love.
Up very early, wife's still asleep.
Trying to be quiet, as I keep
An early morning time to run
Through the dark, shadowed streets,
Before the rising of the Sun.
It is very quiet, not much noise
Except for some figures
That appear to be paper boys.
I move up the street; a little hill
As my breathing and pulse increases;
I know it always will.
I push harder now, up this slight rise.
My breath appears white and puffy
Before my sleepy eyes.
At the top I take a left,
Down 148th's long, slight decline.
My breathing back to normal,
Now this run is mine.
I finish this early morning run,
Almost 6 taxing miles.
Returning home, my running clothes I shed,
I go into the shower; my wife is still in bed.
Finish the ritual of bath
And put on a suit and tie.
Out the door, I go to work
Feeling happy and very spry.
I will repeat this daily ritual
Until I feel like a well oiled machine,
Then I will be more ready,
If you know what I mean.