Glimpses

To affect the quality of the day, that is the highest of arts. - Thoreau

the days pass by so quickly

like bullet trains

at the speed of light

always leaving me at the station

with luggage of the past and windblown hair

i can barely tell them apart

i cling to solitude

but it longs to betray

wanting instead to climb aboard and play

with little to say

it matters not because i've learned to be content

in this unrelenting game of hide and seek

not for the faithless or meek

i simply turn the other cheek

along with the page of another week

it is mine

i found it

i own it

as i open my fingers and peek

Author's Note

“Time is but the stream I go a-fishing in. I drink at it; but while I drink I see the sandy bottom and detect how shallow it is. Its thin current slides away, but eternity remains. I would drink deeper; fish in the sky, whose bottom is pebbly with stars.”

Reviews

[barleygirl]

Your poem speaks to me of those decades when I was immersed in a career with the punctuation marks being long weekends backpacking or bicycling or some other escape from the noise & crowds. A few times I took a couple months off to do an extended version of "escape" -- I thought everyone should unplug for longer in life, a few times, at least. But now that I've lived alone in the wilderness for a decade, I could have never imagined what it would be like to become fully unplugged to such an extent. Your poem reminds me I've lost that nagging pull of obligations. Most of my life, it was only a bright peek, but now it surrounds me (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[Pete]

wow. awesome share. i long to return to the woods again preferring the visits of four-legged visitors.

“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.” - thoreau