Some mornings you sit with your coffee, maybe accompanied by a pastry, and you listen more intently to your thoughts. Some days, those thoughts peer toward the horizon before us and imagine… just imagine. But there are those days when those thoughts become more reflective and examine the many “imagines” that have widened in our wake, and we humbly investigate that tapestry called life.
I turn on heels to view the wake
my silhouette so near — or far?
for time can blur the scene,
but look I will
into the dark
by light which slips through windowpanes
There are friends who joined my daily stroll
and some who veered away
balls and bats and gloves all oiled
a diamond of dirt and grass,
green stains and smudged mud
with sweat blended deep
In rooms I peek with curious eyes
recalling words exchanged
with puzzles, books, and jackets strewn
offering guidance, wanting to protect
outcome not assured
flowing like a stream through stones
A home I see across the plains
facades so often changed,
but love so present, ever-growing
guiding, pressing, molding still
legacy being built,
being exchanged and handed down
I turn again on heels sunk in
returning to the path
to layer on another thread
my silhouette widens...
The Curious Table 