Ten to Go

4/20/04

My son in the throes of morning happiness,
German Shepherd whines to go out,
cats rub up against me for food,
birds twitter, cars pass,
water fills the bath,
as a new day is unveiled.

But as I slightly know
that this is happening,
I envision airplanes,
airports, car rental lots,
hotels, the last stop
that I will make out West,
and the countdown goes on in my head.

A little faith
will head me out the door
in a jet, on a Friday.
Love of the Unknown
will push me, and I
will soar, empty-handed
into that fog of hope.

I live out the future
in the present.
Ever increased
dog whines, cat circlings,
child giggles, and bathwater splashes
are obscured by the obsession
with what is to come.