May 27, afternoon
There would come a time
like a narrow corridor,
enclosed on both sides
with an opening ahead.
The walls might feel
made of clouds or sheets
of rain, and the light would
seem dim, as before sleep.
In this state trees breathe
heavier, inclined to fall,
and friendly postings
are apt to sound captious.
With no clear destination in mind
many turn to newscasts anyway,
to keep track of the worthy—
those few with many facets
and no need to stay at home.
A vision of sun on wet sand
is enough for some, for others
sunsets turned to clay or smoke,
a call of distress that demands
a handout of the coins stored
in our sacks of perishables
and refurbished plush toys.
We're quite certain all is ready
and the alarms have been set.
The perfect image of your car
has been sent on ahead, you'll
find it when you arrive, purring
softly, in need of your deft touch.
Don’t you think we’ve thought of that?
It's not our first barbeque, nor last.
We've delved the cellar, returned
the china, answered all inquiries.
Seldom before have so many
abandoned their darker purpose.
There's no need to be concerned,
the ones you've forgotten
have already recovered from shock
and those you've gathered here
take heed of your elusive spirit
as it visits these shops unseen.
The most flagrant departures
from law and order serve a purpose
in the end, not that I'll endorse
any comic patter indifferent
to what we call due process.
It's clear the kayaks are secure
and what waits around the bend
should speak of all we've been till now.
Don't worry, you're already in the garden.
©Donald Brown 2010/2013