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.
We want to know what
we don’t know, or hadn’t thought of,
or forgot.
What mattered then,
or what mattered when, shifts over time.
We notice.
Perception is what you don’t see.
Deception is what know.
You see it differently through your aloneness.
The truth behind a lie,
you question how and why.
It made sense.
Anticipation keeps us waiting
for only so long. Will it matter
if you felt it never did?
© 2021 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.
Wednesday sits naked
and ordinary
waiting
between the bookends of restive Sunday
and social Saturday. The day is
little more
than a cluster of hours or a stop on the
treadmill. Indecisive and
lonely
nobody chooses a Wednesday. Nothing
happens
on a Wednesday
and it’s the same each week.
© j.g. lewis
Sept 11/01, a Tuesday. London Subway bombings: July 7/05, a Tuesday, also July 21/05, and also a Tuesday. Assassinations: John Lennon on a Monday, Martin Luther King Jr. a Thursday, and John F. Kennedy a Friday. Kurt Cobain’s body was discovered on a Wednesday, but he chose his way out three days earlier. Nothing happens on a Wednesday.
There are fewer concerts mid-week, and opening night is never a Wednesday. They never open the Olympics on a Wednesday. Nobody gets married on a Wednesday.
Yet, each week, I choose Wednesday.
When I launched Mythos & Marginalia.com more than seven years ago, Wednesdays were all I planned.I had other thoughts, daily, but Wednesday was the day. I made that commitment.
I wrote every damn day, so I began filling up more than Wednesdays. Mondays became young Fridays, and there was a lot more going on than I originally thought, so here we are.
This is Wednesday and there is a new design to the page; it’s another challenge I will slowly figure out, yet that’s the same for any other day. But today is Wednesday and there is more to read and more to see.
And I’m sure there will be something more tomorrow.
-j-
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.
2 replies on “Another Wednesday”
Your words always brighten and clarify my days, jg. 😊🙏
I appreciate that Deb.
Thank you for your kindness and thank you for following.
-j-