If Ahead I See
Gray skies filtered through light,
eyes adapting space,
the possibilities of the
horizon or a foot
lashing out in reflex,
what do I learn?
The house finch sings as if
all air will expire at song’s end.
Falling, I release this misplaced trust.
The path, muddied and crowded with fools.
* * *
“If Ahead I see” is included in my 2017 chapbook, From Every Moment a Second.
O at the Edges 
Hmmmm … my perspective: WHEN I look ahead, what do I see? Questions, questions, questions! Yes, many of them fools. Many of them quite sober, mature seekers. But all of them simply space-holders for whatever is to come, which none can predict in full …
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To be honest, sometimes I see nothing, or only vague outlines of what might be. But that’s okay. Certainty is the least of my concerns. 🙂
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The poem reminded me of the birdsong I’ve been hearing, unleashed (?) by the drop in traffic noise. Silver lining, perhaps?
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We’ve noticed more birdsong here, too, but then it’s spring. The traffic noise is still annoying.
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Probably got more time on my hands now to listen out for it … more creatures appear to be venturing into towns, I’ve heard.
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