Spring ???

There is this rolling haze, - a bluish gray –

that hangs, moist, in this  B. C. air.

This springs, starting gate, day

- as I relax in the comfort of my chair –

makes one consider, inside I should stay,

watching it maneuver the atmosphere

into  much heavier shades of black.

 

A twist closes white louvers in here

and there is no way of turning back

as washed out red, drapes slide

across rails, by this hand, to hide,

to close out the darkness of night,

only to cloth me in the glow of electric light

as this spring day – for another year – takes flight.

 

This is the way this spring night stands

as are most others, in which I tend to play.

This the fate I have created with thine own hands

and will carry me through until light of day.

 

I wonder ?, as I shutout the night,

shut myself in, - from ? – out of sight.

What it is ?, or why ?, I put to word,

what is above, to whom ?, and will it be heard ?

 

I do wonder, where it all comes from ?

I do wonder, where it all is going ?

I do wonder, what will be its sum ?

I do wonder what is in the knowing ?

 

B. J. “A ” 2

March 22^nd 2003