observatory baggage

soliders stare across sidewalks
& sit on streetbenches, waiting near traffic.

sometimes a bus,
sometimes a friend,
sometimes a grin.

a few anticipate nothing, & receive the wind’s touch.

leaves across the nation fall, and a slight breeze
invisibly changes illustrations of it all.

some people act as ants, following leaders to rhythms outsourced beyond ears.
some people seem snails, contemplating all steps to avoid stress.
some people are motionless as rocks: stagnant, unnerving, and conveying unprecedented depths of apathy.

(is this decay?)

there’s this tree in the elementary playground that doesn’t make a sound,
but teaches lessons about roots, growth, and ideas (found).

time is measured in moments
time is ambiguous to children
time is an hourglass emptying.

(on the usual)

sitting situates perplexed people accordingly.
depending on needs, there are many ways to freeze:
sofas, stools, rocking chairs, lazy boys, couches, loveseats.

daily newspapers outside the local market
daily persuade inaction/distrust/monumental fuss,
daily friends sit on their knees to read.

(and pray, in many ways for the new day)