Palimpsest

scrap pile

 

I am inscribed each morning with the bright Sun, blue skies,

The cheerful twitter of the birds captured in green tapestries of leaves.

The draperies of prospects out of coffee, plans to be fulfilled

Array my energies that flash with expectant sparkles, eagernesses

To begin the weave of time and place with necessities and delights

To be alive in competencies, while dream memories dissolve

In sips of hot coffee, in the smooth yellow of fried eggs on toast.

Yesterday is still clear but fading amongst the faint marks and odd darkenings.

It can be seen as a tattered spattered slightly yellowed sheet of paper

Shivering in the breeze and momentarily caught between a rusty dented tin can

And one half of an old shoe. What, at first, seemed just a smudge takes the shape

Of the profile of a very pretty girl and, quite near, a bit of study can make out

The pattern of a flower. Imagination does strange things and staring brings clear

An antique city street with ornate lamp posts against the spire of a church.

No matter. A heavy gust frees the scrap and quickly it sails away

To chase the seagulls into the clouds.

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