October 18, 2005
I watch the drops fall one by one.
Perfectly mesmerized, I sit.
Each expanding bead of fluid startles me anew.
Will it fall the same way?
The mysteries of the universe encapsulated
in this process of ebb and flow.
Unceasingly wise I appear,
I am the cat.
I watch him mesmerized
and find myself as interested in him
as he is in the process of the dark liquid
dripping into the glass vessel.
He looks ready to leap.
Is it genius or idiocy?
Perhaps this mystery of the universe
will never be revealed to me.
Then I walk past the still-as-statue one
with eyes as large as saucers.
He wants the donuts on the counter next to the coffee pot.
The mystery is revealed:
he waits for me to get my cup and leave
so he can help himself.
I am the idiot.
for Jasper Doodle Bug
October 12, 2005
When two roads have diverged in a yellow wood, and I’ve taken the road less traveled, or the road more traveled–how do I return to the one I left behind? Shall I always find myself back on the same road, no matter how many rabbit trails lure me away? No matter how many purposeful detours I make?
If life is a road, as I suppose Robert Frost meant it to be, am I destined to walk this one? I look at my life, and despite the changes I’ve tried to make, I’m stuck with the me that I am, warts and all. It strikes me that there are more warts than not. Every effort to be better, smarter, kinder, disciplined, holier deposit me in the end at the same place in the same path. I’m a person who can barely do the dishes, let alone motivate myself to leave the house or change the world. Today the hope seems small things will change, for more than five minutes anyway.