I stop
I stop and look back
Along the path I’ve travelled
Not to see where I’ve been
Not to linger on what I’ve done
Not to consider the path I’ve followed
I want to see
What fell out of my peripheral vision
What cannot be seen moving forward
I stop and look back
Along the path I’ve travelled
Not to see where I’ve been
Not to linger on what I’ve done
Not to consider the path I’ve followed
I want to see
What fell out of my peripheral vision
What cannot be seen moving forward
Though I may have to fly
Rather than drive
I may have to walk
Rather than bicycle
I roll through
On two wheels
Climbing up
Flowing down
Cornering
And gliding
In flight
Amongst
The verdant
Clouds
I wonder why I live in the city
With its noise
Both visual and aural
With its go-go-go
And its stresses
Its meanness
And petty heartbreaks
I wonder this
Whenever I enter the idyllic
A place of peace
Where time is kept
By the movement of the sun
The seasons
Where change is driven
By the needs of nature
Rather than the pace
Of technology
Of politics
Of corporate commerce
The most spectacular thing
About this glorious planet
Is the sky
How often
Do I forget
To look?
How often
Have I seen it first
In the photograph?
But the arc of a ski
Carving its perfect turn
As the skier masters the snow
But way up high
Where mountains pierce the sky
Winter lingers still
A roadtrip is best
Without clear destination
Without a timeline