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.
Note:They are blooming.Can I add the vultures?
we waited for fish,
got bored and left
note: During one of my walks to the river I asked a kind man walking with a dog the name of some of the trees along the path. He pointed to me: elm, sycamore, oak and Emory ash. Next time I will ask him about the other trees.
Once upon a time the path was used for horse-drawn carriage.
“A wave is in the water,
a phenomenon, unlike an armadillo”.
I climb the stairs
and recite the opening lines
of Dante’s Divine Comedy.
I have to descend
to my vicissitudes, the painful
ones, they are real
not imagined, like an armadillo.
I can’t wave them away.
note: I’m reading,wave, at NPR.
a tight passage,
not even a thought or stent can pass
a camel can
note: In June, 2014 Mrs. Abstract and I drove from Washington State (USA) to Vancouver, Canada. We took the Rocky Mountaineer train from Vancouver to Japser to see the Canadian Rockies. Then drove by car to Lake Louise, Banff and Calgary.Then flew back to Vancouver, took the ferry to Vancouver Island, stayed in Victoria then took the ferry to Washington State and returned home.