These two left feet of mine,
they get me places.
Neither in grace nor style,
but I end up wherever I must,
mostly on time.
I’m well-aware
of how I happen to be
positioned,
I feel each fluctuation.
With the gyroscopes in
my ears, I remain
level-headed
no matter how I crane
my neck.
Featherless biped,
I pole vault with each pace,
leap and bound;
not enough drag to stop me,
not enough lift to send me
soaring.
Maybe,
if I push a little harder,
I’ll get somewhere.
Arranged meticulously,
posed purposefully,
captured faithfully —
life not as it happened,
but a skillful composition.
Sliced pomegranate,
with a few loose jewels nearby,
a vase full of poppies,
wine glasses half full,
a fresh loaf of bread
a steak knife flanking
an empty plate.
We stand on the outside
looking in,
a window to a moment,
forever undisturbed —
not life as it once was,
just an arrangement.
Take this with you,
only in memory,
no flash photography.
Winds of change,
carry me away,
I will spiral
as I ride the currents,
to still waters,
to green pastures.
The gale will wail,
but I will not falter,
it’s fury will take me
somewhere new,
I have faith.
I will put down roots,
I will stand as tall as I can,
from midsummer,
through first frost
but, here, I cannot stay.
Winds of change,
I will follow your lead,
I fear no obstacle,
you have carried me above them.
Though you have set me down,
I will not rest,
The sun sets in the West,
I will face East,
and take in the morning light,
no matter the hand I’m dealt.
Winds of change,
carry me away,
I wish to see the world,
carry me away.
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The File Pile 