“Circles”

 

c. 2025 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(12-25)

 

Circles, cycles

Turning in an endless loop

A step to the stoop

An arc of nature, circumscribed

With billions of us, along for the ride

Some sit and watch, while others pray

Doting on differences

Dunces, dipping and dabbling

When we’re all passengers, anyway

Don’t think me to be a brute

But, regardless of the route

While remaining somewhat aloof

Your timeline is mine as well

That’s the door-to-door product

That wise salesmen sell

When I observe in a candid confession

Eyes lifted to the heavens

That much time has been expended on plowing ruts

To divide spent chewing gum from cigarette butts

When the wind will arrange

Each according to its weight

I might sound a bit condescending

Yet not with an intention of such

Not with a careless caretaker’s touch

In that, you may trust

It is my wish to be heard and understood

A force for the good

Though stained as I am

A meandering, marked man

It might well be impossible to turn invisible

Despite a strong showing

A wild whisper from the all-knowing

I used to read words scribbled by candlelight

In a time when civilization paused with the coming of night

Seeking, searching

Hell bent on library learning

That was my cause

Cradling a clockwork mouse, in blackbird claws

While soaring above

It was a destiny handed down

Like the frock and makeup of a carnival clown

Something I took with gratitude

Never considering that, perhaps

It was not a task

I would have chosen, otherwise

They very notion of free will tingled my ears

And when I had grown to covet the passage of years

Then, I spoke out

Raising queries and doubts

Not keen on reaching the crest

Of a folklore fable, fashioned from a fishnet

I saw the railroad curve

A masterful work of the engineer’s art

Constructed with care

I silently stood there

In awe of the dare

Taken so boldly, even before I was born

Spinning around the sun

This yarn unfurled at a pace that might frighten even the skilled hands of a master

Cast into the cold realm of space

Into the ever-after

My ticket punched with a clasp of hands

Authorized to be in motion

Fortified by a medicinal potion

Dispensed at the platform where my entry was made

It burned in my belly

With the tang of a fine marmalade

A sweet citrus, a compliment to the taste

Of living life as a traveler

Circles charted in chalk

On the grandest boardwalk