There was a day this past week
that was the longest day; and it
was for me. I started in NYC.
(and this is about silence)
And I awakened there, sometime
around two forty five. This was the timing
in Seattle. But I was in NYC.
(and this is about being quiet)
That day, I was to fly home. It
took about an hour and fifteen
minutes to get out of the city.
(and this is about quiescence)
Then it was about forty five
minutes to get to the airport.
And I got there late.
(and this is about watching, in repose)
Rushing to the gate, then
I boarded at about four, the
flight was to leave at four thirty.
(and could this be about watching)
That jet pulled back at
five thirty, then taxied out
and began the wait in line.
(this is about waiting, well)
There was an old Russian woman
who was ill — but she had to get
home; she didn’t, we went back
(and this is about change)
to the gate, and waited as they
hauled her off. She didn’t want
to go, but it was too late for that.
(this is about what happens)
And we waited there for two
hours, then went out, again.
Rain and lightning emerged.
(and this is about what you see)
And after seven hours, close
to midnight, we left, finally;
looking down, there were
(this is about what’s left behind)
dozens of jets, there, lights
blinking, as they set there,
waiting to be free.
(this is about forgetting)
And we got back, Seattle home,
what was twenty four hours,
from arising, before.
(and this is about time passing)
And coincidentally, aligned,
it was the longest day. My
parents had their anniversary;
(and this is about construction)
about fifty six years of
making some thing
constructive, in living
(and this is about silence)
the fruitful and contemplative
life; one of mutual reflection.
This now comes to me.
(and this is about every move)
Being one in silence, being
all right, in the moment,
found there, here. Present.
(and this is about today)
That I leap from one place
to another, finding that
production, in silence.
(and in each, this is about silence)
5.55am | NYC | Seattle | Decatur Island