Sketches - 29 (September 15th, 2014)

29.

Full on dark-chilled September

                night.

My toddlers wobble across the

living room floor.  

Always a curious trembled

joy when my youngest Jesse is

set free from

the confining play pen.

Izzy chases a blue

        balloon -

    Lowen miraculously

      plays a video game

      at the age of 3 and

                           3 months

      and Jesse grabs   

      an empty cup, covets

      it with each proud

      wobble step of his tiny

                           feet

                           to and from.

I’m getting older every day.  I've resigned

myself to it  I allowed myself

to be fully baptized by the idea of time

and all its furious currents.

Last Sunday I saw

a small group of grey dung

beetles waiting on the

stone wall of the outdoor

steps to the right of the

garage, about 9 of them

gathered there still and pepper-grey

with movements that almost

looked strategic, thought out -

         I was careful not to

         step on them on the

         way to the back door -

         somehow I was repulsed

at the sight -

          imagined my whole body

           covered in these ancient

           mechanical moving

           beetle bugs, legs blurred

           and loathsome crawl.

The earth opens up cold this

fall, the early morning subdues the crickets

and cicadas.  The wiretap and

dot bleeps of a million shaded

corners and valleys that formed the

insect wave antenna is a wave receding -

                        pulling back

and I’m getting older every day.

Nothing to be done about it.  

(September 15th, 2014)

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