Thursday, July 20, 2017

Summer Hours

Although my mind is drifting in the sun,
My body's hidden down here, in a cave.
It seems a wonder that my work gets done,
Or that I have some peace of mind to save.
I'm floating in the sunny summer air,
And watching someone sleeping on the lawn.
I'm happy that she doesn't know I'm there,
But sad that she won't know it when I'm gone.
My photons softly flutter in the breeze -
Soon, I am riding on the solar gale.
That is, until I drift into the trees
And end up beached there, like a photon whale!
Although the cold and dark is what I dread,
I let my mind go back inside my head.

Mick McKellar
June 2017

I wrote the bones of this poem in 2003, and found it in a dusty corner of an old computer back up file. Oddly enough, I remember writing this after taking a break from my office in a basement computer center. I went up to just sit in the sun for a few minutes and saw a young lady, head propped on her backpack, sleeping on the lawn. I closed my eyes and drifted for a few minutes, letting a gentle breeze carry me away.


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