fall of the visionary
Friday, October 14th, 2011No one paid heed to
his ideas, till they leapt
into our noggins.
• • •
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No one paid heed to
his ideas, till they leapt
into our noggins.
• • •
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The strangers picked our
fields, built our homes, staffed our plants
till we kicked them out.
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A cup of fresh-pressed
cider awaits the weary
field hand at day’s end.
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She kept her love well
hidden, but it still peeked out
occasionally.
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He didn’t flinch when
they tried to silence him with
intimidation.
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Bike tires crunched the
leaves in their path, as autumn
prepared for hard times.
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The youths brought their signs,
their whistles and their voices
to bring down the man.
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Mighty were the teams
that stormed the field, called the toss
and clashed at the line.
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She patiently taught
him the basics: gaming, pets,
coffee and doodles.
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The waitress listed
the specials in her lilt and
we knew where we were.
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The train disgorged its
huddled cargo, closed its doors.
No one said a word.
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The elevator
stopped at each department for
new highs in learning.
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The sun plays lightly
on my nose, which detects hints
of fall in the air.
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Impatient shoppers
clutched their bags of pork rinds and
cases of light beer.
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In came veggies by
the bushel, and sometimes, an
unfortunate mouse.
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