In Search of it, Still

Out there in the far-
Away fields there is:
A pond by a lake that
Has a trail that climbs
Up to the highest peak.

I have seen it. I
Have been there, once.

Near to a half-
Tall tree that rests by:
A boulder with mossy
Growth that covers
Nearly all of it it
Sits and waits. This
Small, sleek, and frail,
Little thing.

You have seen it. You
Who were once so close
To finding it, once.

By a place by a field that
Has so much strength and
Great little things that sit
And call out to the night-
Time skies so full of cold,
And stars. We

Search out for it and know that
It once was here and yet we
Call out to it, again.

Sights from Speeding Trains

On distant days in quiet towns
While I sat with a café while
It rained outside. The sound of
A radio playing somewhere
In the distance. Writing and

Seeing songs of the street and
Deep puddles where rain
Pools. I on trains and walking with
Violent bursts of lightning
Overhead. The smell of it –
Rain in windows and feelings of

Cool and calmness in an attic
Room in Prague. Wood creaking and
Hearing the tick of time on cobble-stone
Streets that trip me up to the
Stairs in museums so hard to
Climb and the limp of feet sinking

In memories of backstreets and rivers
And such cold that I should have worn
Shoes not sandals but still the hurry
Off to new places and the throwing of
Rocks out of windows of speeding
Trains and seeing them land on

Sides of hills I know I have been
Up once but now it is gone
Away and the ripples of
Lost rocks in deep ponds and speeding on,
And on…