Who can you blame?
Are the feelings unjust when a decision is a matter of knowing you must find fault or favour with the ill winds of change?
It is never enough to simply rearrange plans or predicaments. It is like making a prediction of all my flaws with my faith as fractured or fragile as it is, or has been.
Far easier to see what I haven’t been doing.
03/24/2023 j.g.l.
We tire of unpredictable weather, the damp morning chill, wet socks and lost mittens. Winter keeps reminding it is not through with us.
We have suffered long enough.
The streets are tired and dirty and the time change only makes things darker in the morning.
We need a brighter view.
We need, now, the renewal that comes with spring.
03/20/2023 j.g.l.
Progress comes less from planning than participation.
Dreams and wishes require action and attention.
Start moving.
03/19/2023 j.g.l.
I'm like a pencil;
sometimes sharp,
most days
well-rounded,
other times
dull or
occasionally
broken.
Still I write.
j.g. lewis
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.
Today’s rain washed away most
of the evidence of winter.
The water has spilled over the river’s banks
but is receding.
The air is fragrant
with the change of season.
Maybe it is because the dust has settled for a bit
but I could smell spring as I walked the streets.
At one point, this afternoon, it was like nighttime
in the middle of the day,
the windshield wipers kept time
to the rhythm of life.
This evening, however, just after the sun had
disappeared altogether, low-lying clouds
hovered just above
and in patches.
Stars shone through the clouds
like freckles on a lover’s skin, peeking out of the
crisp sheets.
Spring brings optimism
and hope.
You hear people on the streets again,
they too are pleased.
Just wait for summer.
I can feel peace,
can you?
© 2006 j.g. lewis
Image: Wet Prairies
Artist: Steve Repa – 1977
Ten years ago, in a journal, I wrote this for my daughter. An early spring then,
as it is now. Seasons may change, but poetry remains, as does optimism and hope.
