The Wild Things
Missed Connections in Brooklyn
I laid on my back looking at the sky that afternoon
imagining trees, when their leaves
were still green
while an elephants trunk investigates
the still air
all the wild places i never got to visit are now
just a bunch of insta-matic photographs
that float in my
mind
the elephants and lions were first
the horses and dogs
last
setting across the barren landscape
like an ancient
glacier
with a million stories and
a thousand legs
there was no poetry that night because
all the wordsmiths left long ago
to soak
in the memories of tomorrow
and prepare for
yesterday
we were the only animals left now
all the rest just a memory
a moist
imprint
Her Two Cents
I scheduled this post to be released exactly at 12:21pm as a kind of tribute to endings and beginnings. On one hand, it’s a day like any other. But on the other hand, today holds potential for personal and collective re-birth, re-assessment, and re-energizing. The above illustration’s title, “Little strokes fell great oaks”, is true for both productive and destructive endeavors – consistent and persistent effort can change the seemingly unchangeable. As today marks a fresh-start of sort, what can you do to preserve the wild things, wild places, wild people in your world?
