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.
Has it been that long?
It seems much longer.
A year now, give or take, in which
personal protection is self-preservation.
Stay apart.
Wear a mask.
Wash your hands.
All attempts we share with others who care
about others, as we do. It’s as simple as that
in this complex world of
doubt and shame.
Again and again.
Only the ignorant don’t understand.
The noise won’t be silenced; the news is not fake,
one year now of give and take.
And isolation.
Or loss.
Still, there remains a present danger
for family, friends, lovers and strangers.
It is a numbers game, death toll rises,
now, it has been a year since
we’ve lived this crisis.
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.