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.
What do we overlook?
What instances or occasions
do we choose to not observe, acknowledge, or
try to comprehend?
How can we ignore the shifting beauty
of the leaves, the final days of colour before
wicked winds, a nightly chill, turn our landscape
to a humble grey.
We will feel the deficit, unnoticed in the entirety.
What happens when we do not stop
to pay attention to the slight motion of a raindrop
in a puddle on a drizzly day, or look past
the kaleidoscope haze as errant drops diffuse
light on the lenses of your eyeglasses.
Our vision is not clear to the reality of
people passing by on the sidewalk, on the way
to work or school, perhaps paying as little attention
to the surroundings as we do.
© 2022 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.