The Process and Those Side-line Discoveries

Many are the ways

cast into these high winds...

Like a multitude of rays

when sun scatters

on it's whim

Through various arrays

of broken glass it

bounces off...

What will this thrill day

bring us, eh?...

It's now probing every soft

wrinkle in my brain that sits

in beguiled anticipation...

Not knowing when...

Or what...

Or how...

...Leads me to this

Rocking chair

on the edge of an

embankment

That offers pleasures with

raw fear...

Many are the ways

cast into these high winds...

I am just a leaf,

I'm flying!...

Leaving all my friends behind...

...Maybe I'll return one day...

But now I'm gone,

and that's the way...

Way of the world...

Way of the trip...

Many are the ways we slip...

Stricken from stiff upper lip...

Many, and without one number...

Out of stupor...

Out of slumber...

©

2/9/20

Bunny Villaire