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Saturday, October 20, 2012

Autumn Reflection. AM 2002

     It's a beautiful day and I'm late again.  Coffee, a cigarette, the cool autumn breeze.  The warm sunshine, falling leaves, and a flock of geese tell me it's all right.
     I've got time for another one.  I'm here on the stairs and on my own.  In love with everything and everything is all right.
     Dry leaves are piled up on the bottom step.  The parking lot is full.  The bright sun hangs lower in the sky today.  The cooling breeze chills my back, my hands, and dries the ink in my pen.  Everything is all right.
   I cast my eyes to the urban prairie horizon almost beyond the reach of sight.  I see your laughing eyes smiling back at me.  My time is my own.  I make this day for myself and share it with you.  A lady in a long green coat and carrying a brown cane carefully climbs the concrete stairs.  "It's okay." she says and opens the door for herself.
     A light breeze plays in the scattered brown leaves.  A church bell rings.  It is 10:30 am.  Almost time, almost time.
     The leaves fall one at a time.  Soon the elm tree will be winter-naked, its wrinkly bark skin bare to the coming snow and cold.
Photo Credit: Tina Chakraborty, 2002.

Silent Man's Highway

Red ember twilight,
too bright to sleep.
Remembering...

The silent man's highway
rolls on.  Engine exhaust, black tar,
orange lines.  Red ember
tail-lights shrink in the distance.
This is the road of the Silent Man.
Distances and divides.
Two lanes of roaring traffic,
recorded on black strips across the land.
Horizon to horizon he spreads his hands,
steps onto the gravel shoulder,
and walks on.