Thoughts as an afternoon storm gathers.

Dust in a sun-washed room
slow dances through still air,
disturbed in an instant
to eddies and tracers of light,
refracted back in times
of older life, as…

…boy on a new-used bike
races down a winding road
on course to plunge into
a wild and grand new day,
around small curves
and off of curbs into
trails under hedge-gaps,
barely ever noted by less
experienced vision.

Particles do separate
to pale and hazy currents
marked with brighter motes
of motion up-diagonal or
down-across direction
of the rest, as…

…old man on a new bike
slowly peddles past the
younger times in life,
breeze lazy on back of neck,
past yards that used to harbor
stands of trees to climb,
and makeshift forts hidden
amongst the undergrowth.

Shadowed by impending storm
a washed-out sun rescinds
those beams that frame a
dancing galaxy of dust,
reflections of middle-ages
gather in the room, as…

…miles move softly past,
breeze lifts hair to remove
moisture from sweating scalp,
tightly wound emotions
loosen with water music
of waves that sing songs
along bow and beam and stern,
between remembered banks.

Draperies are closed,
dust no longer dances on
a lighted stage of air
suspended in the room,
though reflections linger yet
in visual memory, as…

…sound of wind arrives
ahead of apprehension,
two bikes turn toward home,
leaves race along on
inconsistent paths between
birds in flight for shelter
in hedges between yards,
visions of future and past
recede from present muse.

Dust rattles hidden window,
air becomes a static charge
alive with anxious peals
of anarchy-percussion,
time is indeterminate
until the storm has passed.

 (2001-2012)

7
Liked it
  • K. T. M. on Jul 26, 2012

    An amazing piece of poetry here, Mr. Mack. One that requires slow, repeated reading to bring the completeness into full view.

  • Tiki33 on Aug 10, 2012

    Wonderful work. This is expressed quite well.

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