a prisoner in my mind.
Through the window, sky is teasing
roiling clouds buried
in the rubble of a December storm
wind ravaged lawns now
clumped with dampened leaves
the radio blaring about Afghanistan:
pull-out for Canadian troops,
suicide bombers in Baghad.
Searching about for something
to take away my pain I spot
a chickadee, brings me peace, flirts
with feeders on my porch.
Yesterday the park was wanting
for summer dress, branches
in limbo. Sometimes the
day is a tormenter
and I feel trapped inside stares
not wishing to exhort deficiencies.
Go away sodden sky, go away
to the furthest edge of winter storm.
Disappear anguish. Come again spirit
of Christmas, children melding
into laughter inside giggly beings
anxious to exhibit exuberance,
and a supply of innocence.
All I wish for is a slice
of temporary mindset before worry
turns to pain. From shine
to rust, then circle back again.
© Richard L. Provencher