One more hour,
and it will all be over.
Years of struggle,
capped off in a moment.
We will throw our hats,
we will say “congrats,”
and we will go on
to whatever is next.
And looking back,
a lot of choices were made.
Some easy, some hard,
Never was one more important
Every one has meant as much
as the next.
A little poem
For a Monday evening
Friends escaped to a shore of time
between states of gridded fields
Shoulders pressed with twig patterns
from beneath sleeping bags
Words loosened by brewed coffee
and stories too long waylaid
Oars held by moss cords spreading
from cattails we met on purpose
Palms held over kayak’s edge waiting
for the water’s promised nuance
Thoughts hanging like fishing hooks
watching in hope under the surface
Flight is overrated.
At least when done in a rush,
and the flowers go unnoticed.
I have spent oh so many hours
trapped in a metal cage,
whizzing by the neon lights
and listening to nothing.
How many memories have I missed?
How many smiles passed by?
Is it worth the cost of all my time,
that oh so precious liberty?
I wish I used it better, and did less.
Spent it more on others, than my self.
Used it as it should be used,
not accounted and distributed,
here and there.
On the ground I lay, waiting for nothing.
Because here my heart is happy,
so close to its home.