“Party of One”

 

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