Thursday, October 29, 2009

everything being a constant carnival...

Four days into a new work week and where's the clarity? Seems I need the open road in order to think clearly.



She rode sixteen ferris wheels
in one afternoon,
each one spinning
faster than the last.
Synchronized revolutions
of light and motion
left her shaken and wobbly.
She stumbled into an open field
where an old oak waited
to offer her refuge.
She was cradled in his
knotted limbs,
her head against
his coarse bark.
She begged to stay for 300 years,
there in the shady respite.
But as she slept the sounds of the
carnival plagued her rest.
Frenzied screams of terror
or delight interrupted
her dreams.
Unable to sleep she
left the comfort of the oak
and staggered drowsily
back to the fray,
back to the wild rides.
Buying sixteen more tickets,
and with a nod to the moon,
she mounted the ride,
braced herself against the side
and began to spin again...






2 comments:

cafe selavy said...

I guess that's why they call it "work." I love the Ferris Wheel.

beatriz said...

an exquisite poem and photo...amazing, i don't have the words ....