Unwanted Interruption

Sometimes, there is poetry in everything I see,

everything I breathe.

Images become words

that blend together and become prose.

 

Tree trunks so damp they look charred,

a wet Brown that climbs upward,

boosting Reds and Yellows

until they have enough reach to touch Blue.

 

And then I stop breathing.

Interrupted.

Pulled from my pretension.

My overly romantic reverie,

to notice, startled

a wasp nest hanging above my head.

 

I pass it quickly

and hope

that I may still be able to find myself

in nature once again.

 

But it’s too late now,

and I’ve already gone too far.

I can no longer hear the whispers of the wasps

as I leave them far behind.

Train of Thought

 

The train rattles along the tracks

like a great steal snake skimming the horizon

to slip into its many nests.

Station to station.

 

I look out the window and see

light grey clouds,

a seraphic halo

warmly caressing

their feathery underbellies.

 

For me,

it is the perfect moment

and then for others, I realize

it is not

 

Before my mind can meander to another’s,

I bring my own form of cerebral transportation

to a shrieking, stuttering stop.

I chastise.

 

For almost thinking about being someone or somewhere else.

For taking that perfect moment away from myself.