c. 2025 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(10-25)
End of the season
A change not unfamiliar or surprising
Nature’s glory, respected
A pattern long projected
By the rotation of this muddy sphere
A routine set in motion
Long before I was here
If I ponder the prominence of elements arranged
By a celestial engineer
Forgive me for feeling childlike awe
When I behold the cloudy sky
In shades of azure blue, white, and charcoal gray
Smeared like chalk dust across the board, today
A chill in the afternoon makes me reach for my camouflage hoodie
A garment that keeps me warm enough
Not to curse aloud
Posed as I am in an outdoor space
A square, metered by an anonymous builder
Six feet on a side
A shelter where I may hide
Conspicuous, yet removed from the flow
Like a frog on the riverbank
Croaking with glee
My neighborhood is restless in contemplation
Knowing what awaits
Frost and snowfall
Blustering winds that seem never to abate
Until the hour grows late
Shortened lapses between sunrise and the night
Bolder hues, and then the pale
A wash of ice crystals over the windows
A numbness in fingers and toes
While slogging through the muck
I used to travel in a rugged pickup truck
Sitting tall on broad wheels with deep treads
A sturdy, modernist wagoneer
Able to keep up with a schedule purposed by need
I could not fail to meet this guide
And so, despite the ravaging torment, I would ride
But now, that metaphorical moment has passed
That era of servitude did not last
Now is my chance
To watch and see
Patient and perfected, as the wild wonders run free
Though a moist mist hangs in the air
Suspended by body heat, rising
I have the vision never possessed
When I chased the fleeting embrace
Of practical success
Better is it to be disengaged
Tools and technicalities, put away
Though I sometimes reminisce about the value of my work
I would not go back to tilling the dirt
For bank notes folded in an envelope
This chill on my cheeks is satisfying enough
A challenge to change
To be spiritually tough
Content in isolation, conveniently close
Near and far, depending on the perspective view
Able to taste the morning dew
With coffee, and a hint of daybreak lighting the way
I reckon it was a fair trade
The worth of a satisfied self will abide
Poverty is now at my side
A companion both faithful and sure
Providing an emotional cure
A liberator of sorts
For an old man, king of a rural fort
A favorite son
A party of one
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