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.
Please leave behind all
that has arrived, as we slept, our
minds impervious to the overnight
intrusion on a landscape we have
come to accept.
We have conceded, even enjoyed,
light rain to now. Shielded by
umbrellas (if available), we have
gone many days without sunshine,
yet this winter’s warmth has
allowed no accumulation of
precipitation.
Until this morning.
Now the slush, sidewalk salt and
simple inconveniences will
follow us everywhere. Leave it
outside, where it belongs.
As you enter, stomp off your boots
in that long-familiar dance favoured
by rosy-cheeked children and elders
not as nimble but more experienced
with a lifetime of harsh winters.
Remove your boots or
those sopping sneakers and socks
and come inside. By all means
you are welcome, but leave the snow
where it belongs and let our troubles
accumulate out of doors.
Surely there will be more.
01/13/2023 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.