Fleeting Puzzles

Fleeting Puzzles


Fleeting Puzzles


An early-morning chill returned,

still in the afternoon air.

It appeared they had been sleeping—

a pile of children huddled together, all

riddled by tiny flecks of glowing dreams.


A glimpse of light found its way inside

to see which face was hidden under the pillow.

A child rose from the floor still closing their eyes

and the chatter of thoughts inside their head

gradually wilted away.


Dreams are fleeting puzzles,

and we collect the pieces

we can put together.

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Sunday Afternoon

sunday afternoon

Sunday Afternoon

Late on Sunday afternoon,

we must each of us search consciences and our hearts

and determine what approach we wish—or dare—to take.

It goes deeper than that, coming and going from face to face.

Here, at least, the fate of the increasingly relaxed world was taken seriously.


Once again they were all in place, once again they faced one another around the fateful circle.

Here, at least, no one had relaxed, nor had the issue dwindled or diminished.

For, expects to win indeed had met on such and such a day, as did those with no other choice.


Bustling sidewalk cafes had been faithfully chronicled; loaded with gorgeous blooms on almost every street corner.

One more laid back reason to love summer.


This had been strictly a lucky shot. Once again tension rose in the room like a palpable thing.

Much of the truth of it had all quickly returned. Again there was silence and now the entire room

concentrated on just one face.


There was a silence, an uneasy shifting, a studying of papers, a turning of heads in thought and consultation.

Who is closest and who is farthest, these days? We are all close.

And they are close to us.