Seeing the Whole

Five-thirty on a Tuesday in mid-June.

Before the sun has completely risen.

We meet to run an easy urban loop.

I do not think we could have asked for more.

Temps were cool as if it were early spring.

Humidity was surprisingly low.

There was a breeze to evaporate sweat.

Amazing conditions making it feel

Like we each had wings attached to our feet.

Wings are sometimes used to fly rapidly,

Like Mercury zipping around the sun.

Others with wings do not care about speed

But use their strong wings to soar and explore.

To place themselves so high above the earth.

We can see many things affecting lives.

We can see very small parts and the whole.

We can find meaning in all that we see.

We share observations of what is seen.

Inspired to dream very audaciously.

Caring about the whole of what is seen.

Caring about the whole fellow runner.

More like classical music than mallards

As we came round the promenade’s corner,

Red brick under our feet with ev’ry stride,

We heard classical music coming from

The museum that celebrates science.

It played and paused and started up again.

Our conversation drifted to ponder

The reason—quite possibly two movements.

We also heard music on our return,

This time more upbeat—good motivation.

From the little we heard I made a guess

That it was Copeland’s Appalachian Spring.

Regardless, the music has staying pow’r—  

Heard and recognized by generations.

So different from the two baff’ling ducks

We’d seen during our previous outing.

Two mallards hanging out in a small park  

Without a pond or a stream to be seen.

We’ve only seen them on that section of

Baltimore Street on that singular day.

I do not think we’ll see the ducks again,

Though we’ll pass by the park and promenade

Many times with human staying pow’r.

More like classical music than mallards.

Satisfying Curiosity’s Needs

At a particular moment in time,

When Earth is turned in a way that I find

The sun shining on Earth’s opposite side—

Snapping photos is still something I try.

I’ll find a flower and just enough light

So that when I point and shoot in the night

Or just after dusk, or just before dawn,

The camera can still be focused on

A petal or pistil—stamen or stem.

When I look at the photo I took, then

I sometimes see an ethereal shot—  

Can barely see it’s a flower—or not.

A little substance and a faint outline

And black background on the phone screen of mine.

Or petals with light from the other side

Looking like water colors improvised.

Or light catching petals from just one side

So the opposite petals still can hide.

None of the flowers seem quite what they are

But it’s also true that none is too far

From reality, as I look upon

How light illuminates life before dawn,

Or in dark after dusk or at midnight

Life emerges from any amount of light.

Even when the light begins very low

Letting any in allows life to grow.

So, I play with changing amounts of light

Seeing impacts on what I sense in life.

Appreciating changing appearance.

As light varies without interference.

I follow the light seeing where it leads

Satisfying curiosity’s needs.