Hide and Seek3
She had gone the distance
over a seldom traveled road
only to find the passage blocked
at the window of his mind.
She attempted all sorts of
entry "tricks" but was unable
to penetrate his fortress
until a Wind blew open the
casement exposing his naked
profile weeping at having
been discovered at last; having
been pursued to the point of
capture
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Carnival3
Alone in a cage of "diggers."
She was barely ten, I guessed;
dirty face, soiled clothes,
disheveled sun-bleached hair.
Her smallness required a
soft-drink case (or was it beer)
beneath ragged tennis shoes.
Scrambling, she dismounted,
moved and mounted, reaching
over glass-walled machines
taking quarters from eager
faces on the other side.
Handles cranked wildly, swinging
steel jaws above worthless
trinkets positioned precisely
beyond reach. Some snagged
by luck dropped into a bin.
These she retrieved for the
skilled operators, passing
dice, glass mugs, and plastic
rings outside her cage.
Exchanging hands were of
similar size but neglected
ones stayed within and
attended ones without.
"I'll tell my dad!" she whined
when a player accused her of
causing his prize to fall
from the grip of a jaw. Tears
followed wiping clean a dusty
path down each of her cheeks.
Momentarily her hardness had
broken, transforming an adult
child back into a child.
Meanwhile, odors of fried onions,
pronto-pups, popcorn and stale
beer blended with the carnival din.
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Reconcillation2
For reasons unknown to me, he
hid the sack of field corn
beneath the front car seat. A
sort of peace offering to
himself.
My memory recalled him clutching
the small brown bag as he walked
near the lake that day. He was
unsure of my love, his friend's
friendship, his sister's honesty
and his own self-worth.
He and I were miles apart in
spirit. Only time was to bridge
the gap.
Days later, when I found the corn
spilled from its broken paper bag,
I visualized a boy feeding ducks
alone, trying to minimize his hurt.
In more joyful times, his sister
and he had splashed along the shore
in bare feet tossing kernels to
chasing families of mallards.
Perhaps in his misery he had tried
to recapture the pleasant feeling
by himself but had failed. Thus he
hid the corn from view until he
reunited with everyone lest the
happiness the corn had previously
brought would be tarnished.
His joy in reconciliation however,
rendered the corn's hiding place
unimportant and he forgot his
treasure for all time.
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Anticipation3
I look out and see the trees
first full of buds, then clothed with leaves.
I smell the early morning rain
and watch it pelt my window pane.
Then suddenly the crusted snow
which so opposes things that grow,
no longer has a hold on me...
no longer tests my sanity.
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