Signs

I spotted a feather on my way from work today
Shed by a pigeon in disarray
For you a sign of affirmation, love
For me a thought, it should’ve been a dove

 

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Big City Monday

Snow on Sunday night, mud on Monday morning
Long lines everywhere, people are growling
No trains in sight, everything delayed
Two flakes of snow and my city’s half-crazed
Central Station’s busy, I order a Chai
The guy at the counter unfriendly, I sigh
My Evil Queen outfit the smoke screen I need
Paired with her posture, I feel more upbeat
Until on the boardwalk I see a dead mouse
Its corpse fully smashed, in slush fully dowsed
The sight of it breaks me, my eyes water fast
My issues on hold now, this image will last

Sunday Stroll

20°, the sun unusually strong for a day in mid October. A woman leans against a tree, her feet bare on the grass still luscious green. Her bike right next to her, her head buried in a book – she makes me pause. A group of seniors playing cards on a stump. Fallen trees all around them like wooden corpses as the last remnants of a storm so heavy it knocked out an entire city for a day. Unusual for us. I look at them, the splinters, bark and branches. They make me sad. All those golden crowns depleted on the ground, the random specks of red like drops of blood. My park was wounded badly, I can see that now. And every tree that lost its grip with roots too weak to withstand a tempest on muddy ground slows my steps and makes my heart cry out. How vile that force of nature, a tantrum really, sudden, crass. Such a reflection of my year or less self-centered: the world at large. That’s why the woman sitting by the tree caught my attention. Engulfed still by her story, she oozes calm.