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Saturday, December 01, 2007

Things you see looking up, a new poem

This is a poem I wrote over the past few days, having twice seen condensation trails bisecting the afternoon sky. I presume they were left by aircraft, but I saw no other trace of whatever created them.

Stepping through my daily routine, I looked up to see the fuzzy white lines that reached from horizon to horizon as far as my eyes could peer. Studying them proved a nice diversion as I paced my way through the chill Chicago air, anticipating the start of another winter.

That was enough stimulus to provoke pondering of the usual unanswerables and to inspire the following verse.

Follow Anew, Trail
By Francis Scudellari

Pressed by, the daze, errand
Footfalls thudding, lost, in
Thoughts chilled, self searching, I
Look up at winter's sky

Vapor arcing, spreading
Starkly, thin essence writ,
Authorless acts told, once
Of unclear beginnings

A worn white scar traced
With traveling fingers
Scratched, across pale blue sky,
Wounds, unknown, left behind

A jagged edged tear, now
Closed up, today, stitched new,
Hid heavens, dark secrets
Whispered low, long ago

Seeming without end,
Spilling forward, in time
It fades back to stretched mist,
Reseeds a cloudless haze

To emptiness, returned,
Head lowered, I, push on
Blank steps, follow anew,
Trail, my line imagined
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