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.
“I notice that Autumn is more the
season of the soul than of nature.”
-Friedrich Nietzsche
Autumn: is there more
to think about, or more time
to think about it?
We spend hours and days
considering change,
bewildering change, less based
in time than on feelings.
Neither bleak as winter, nor
sultry like summer, certainly
not as messy as the spring
announcing its arrival mostly
with daily rain washing away
any evidence of
where we have been.
Autumn keeps us waiting;
it keeps us guessing.
It might not feel right
until it does. Unpredictable,
more a sensation than a day,
date, or wait, Autumn will
say hello only when
it feels like it.
09/22/2024 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.