How do we choose to travel?
What is reliable in the rain?
What is our ultimate destination,
for this time, this journey, or
this day?
We move at the speed of life.
Depending on traffic, others
may chose to follow your path,
but not your direction.
© 2021 j.g. lewis
A little cold, little wet,
a little tired and yet
I am here. Still,
full of wonder.
The morning chill leaves
little to the imagination
and much less
to hope for.
Expected, perhaps, as it
always is, this time, this
season is only what
we ask of it.
11/21/2024 j.g.l.
The answers are far less certain
than even last week, to all those
perennial questions or solutions
you might seek.
What do you believe, or
what do you believe in?
Come Monday, you have fewer
questions than you had last week.
For a while there are less doubts
in what you believe.
Whom do you believe in,
and who believes in you?
11/18/2024 j.g.l.
I'm like a pencil;
sometimes sharp,
most days
well-rounded,
other times
dull or
occasionally
broken.
Still I write.
j.g. lewis
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.
I bought a new parka; I hadn’t for some time,
really only once in my adult life and years ago at that.
I had many parkas before, as a child.
You had to, around here.
There is no fashion in a parka. Parkas are boring.
It is all practical. Not like a ski jacket,
or an overcoat, or whatever was fashionable
at the time.
My Dad had a parka, I remember that,
blue with a hood, and deep pockets.
He may have had more than one,
but the one I remember was blue. And warm
Fathers seem to never grow cold.
They watch hockey games and shovel snow,
the parka protection from the elements,
as your feet freeze and cheeks grow white.
Fathers, like parkas, are sensible.
Consistent. They stand against the cold
providing protection and warmth.
I wear a parka.
© 2011 j.g. lewis
I’m like a pencil;
sometimes sharp,
most days
well-rounded,
other times
dull or
occasionally
broken.
Still I write.
j.g. lewis
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.