standing by the fence

by the picket fence that runs down to the beach
if I look for him, he is not there
if I am he, I see the waves the sand
the coarse beach grass rustling
in the offshore breeze
smell the salt feel the warm sand
falling away underfoot
wonder what gifts the tide
drew in overnight

I know he stands by the fence
waiting for me
waiting for me to return
from the city
waiting with calm focus
looking out and up
Simplicity is such a complicated word
a city word
a word formed in the brain stems
of individuals who live with machines
and chipsets technology and clutter
in the city we seek simplicity
let us simplify
FYI: simplicity is simply citi
CITI is —

My child lives in a simple place
near the shore
waiting for me
waiting for me to
go down to the edge
and look across the water
and look up
and see the lights in the sky

the lights that seem to be
stars and planets
but really
in my child’s world
from that shore
they are the welcoming voices
of what is so simple

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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2 Responses to standing by the fence

  1. gudge says:

    Nice one. Kind of simple though.

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