“Trying”
July 21st, 2020
Maybe twenty minutes out of Taos
I tallied my winnings and climbed the hillside
Keeping a close watch on whether the weather was coming or going
The air felt heavy as if the world was denying the apparent change happening beneath its hands
I felt compelled to agree
For months no work, no travel, and no hymnals
That leaves a religious man singing new songs
To a different God.
Whether he can answer which were truer
Or if he was simply more infatuated with the newer
That he can only speculate
So rather, he’d prefer to sit, breath, and stare at nothing
Something I believe we have all inherited as a way to sort out the obvious.