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.
The hints of winter remind us what is to come: snow squalls, icy storms, those horrendous wind chills and descending temperatures.
We can only imagine what is ahead of us, our fears augmented by seasonal memories of the coldest nights, frostbitten fingers, slipping and slipping on highways, and slip and falls on neglected sidewalks.
Our minds can go way back in time documenting wicked winters, but we still must think of the present, and the future, and the vulnerable. The unhoused and the hungry will struggle with what is ahead: the birds and the people.
Is it within our humanity to find simple charity, a gesture in kind, shelter, food when required, a hand up to those who need it?
It is the season to feel more than the frigid temperatures.
11/20/2022 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.