frayed by day
Day 1.
Brisk stride and I barely notice it
following a rhythm of my own
I dodge it
hanging in my way
I'm late for class
I quicken my pace
and just miss its backwards swing
Day 2.
It's unclouded through the window
I step out on the porch
to inhale the warmth
of this orange light
that has been cloaked
I walk the sidewalk with coffee in hand
and see it hanging there
just as before
but less aggressive
swinging blissfully
Its letters faded
from the friction of the wind
What other phrase than "roll tide"
vertically crafted into its grooves
a battle cry of a stampede
the same feet that march these grounds
without noticing its effort to be one with the herd
Day 3.
No class
yet there it hangs
a new tempo
has it no knowledge of time?
A bold hole through the middle
like a clock with no hands
the tick-tock measured
by the swings
to and fro
to and fro
to and fro
Day 4.
Mother nature pushes and pulls it
a child on a swing,
a tamed animal
on a fraying leash
The towering bark structure
grasps the leash from above
and intertwines it
in firm fingers
It gives in to each gust
enjoying the rhythm;
an elderly man
in a wicker rocking chair
still a child on a swing
Day 5.
A lurking darkness
cascades over each detail
the night creeps in
It isn't fearful
still swinging with the same elation
that was visible in the light
a slower pace now
relaxation
A porch light shines
with the night's sun
as it slips into the darkness
Day 6.
A morning phone call demands my attention
walking at New York pace
so caught up in the words spewing in my ear
that my eyes missed
what I was so used to seeing
The day steers me back home
I see from far away
What do I see?
Nothing
but bare concrete
not a thing interrupting its path
It's missing,
where has it gone?
My eyes glance upward
the bark fingers still
grasping the ends of the leash
The old man has disappeared
from the rocking chair
I became so used to him waving
every morning as I walked by
I wave goodbye to the skies
as a droplet melts the pavement