“In the Meantime”

And, in the meantime, what?
If the requirement is the sun
And in the hour, none;
If patience swells but in the rutting cuts
No clearance, no escape from paths
To howling destinations; if the moon
Must hide behind the earth, the cry of loons
Is heard no more for lack
Of seasons in the ether;
If the house depends on creosote,
And vessels pine for tides; the coat,
The autumn’s lack of warmth and wintry blasts recuse nor
Will they join demand to orderly confusion, what then?
The egg exacerbates the vigil not within the cock but in the hen.

2 responses to “

  1. we wait….. sometimes with patience sometimes not, lips chewed but not the fingernails, that habit is long gone…as is the hope that this summer we will bask in the glory of the sun…. time passes and we count what we’ve gained against the losses, are we ahead on points?.. xPenx

    • Yes, I suspect that the whole of life is a matter of a long and at times seemingly endless wait for the Host to open the door; the overture to conclude so that we may at last hear the expected symphony; the operation to be performed and recovery sufficient so that we may smile once again upon the patient; at the mailbox for the postman so that we may be apprised of the bill; near the telephone for that important call; the last day of work so that the vacation may begin. I know of no one who awaits nothing unless in fact he is either lost or distracted, or simply cocooned within a protracted dream or possibly a nightmare. Where there is expectation of change, there is the very stuff of hope; where there is hope, there is either loss or gain and both are simple words for nothing better to do before the remedy for either is found, this side of the womb and just before the door to what is surely in the next room. At the very least, there is nothing about life that is boring.

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