A leaf falls on the pond,
creates a circle and multiplies
in ever widening circle
I have seen it once or many times before ,
always seems surprising in freshness and clarity
a tiny wave, minuscule or a huge
one, a surfer’s temple.
But what’s a wave, someone asks,
it’s not water, it’s in the water, scientists
say, it’s a phenomenon,unlike an armadillo.
My life’s ascent to bed to rest
and wake to descend to my vicissitudes:
plural hours of pain and dark nights,
the fragility and reversal of remission,
the struggle to hold and throw a bocce ball,
the pauses after every aisle, pushing a grocery
cart, are real not imagined, like an armadillo.
I can’t strip them away. Lucidly
stubborn, I try to resist and should not.
Deep in I have to endure.
note: This a revision or expansion of what I wrote on August 8.