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.
Another season: it dawns on you
each spring. Early morning
thoughts are bewildering.
Each morning you wake, as you
have done so many times before.
A cumulative lifetime of
waking up once more. Mornings,
some anyway, you spring up from
your cozy bed, refreshed, anxious
to encounter plans you have made
for the day ahead.
Majority of days it is off to work;
‘got to make a living’, many times
it has been said, but what will you
make of this day? Of yourself?
What can be constructed from a
momentary lapse of reason, the
dreams ignored, pursuits or plans
forgotten in the morning haze?
What will you accomplish in this
one of many days? What can you
get done once you get going?
04/04/2022 j.g.l.
April is Poetry Month
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.