Monday, March 16, 2015

Bus Stop

Patience is a form of grace.

 A charming green belt in Alameda
I spent an afternoon on the bench at Crown beach,
To get here I walked down from the 51 busline
but my dogs don't favor an uphill rebound
So I await the somewhat sparse 20 bus down here,
You must be alert because the bus comes around a curve 
and it will leave you behind without the slightest regret

 Time passes

 In my long life I have developed skills to avoid impatience--
the almost psychedelic color of early California poppies,
the meaning of trees and grass and clouds...

 More time passes

A father and his toddling daughter come along the long sidewalk, eventually are even with me. She is filled with the pure joy of the Springtime, a contact high for me. She reaches for a poppy and Dad says no. I say, "it's protected." She pets the flower as it it was a kitten such touching gentleness.
Then they slowly move on and are gone...

More time passes

 Across the street tennis courts and sports fields,
A row of admirable trees
 hanging outdoors, tired, having exercised myself
I enjoy observing the activities of others

 More time passes

 A so-called aboriginal or primitive person  sees a landscape in a much more profound sense. This capacity occupies the exact structures in the brain that we so-called civilized humans use to store knowledge of symbolic language of all kinds.
My goal is restore as much of this capacity in myself as I can. While here I heard crows, watched a bluejay make his rounds, and I keep a long watch on a lovely Anna's Hummingbird hovering over the scrub trees...

 In no time at all

But I didn't see a snake until I got back to Chinatown,
The bus showed up and dropped me at 8th street minutes later,
Racing through the tunnel under the Bay like it was 2001

15 March 2015

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