I hear the pulse beat of the humans
and the whoosh of their motion
as they go about their ways
in a variety of machines
and speeds
and mind states.
bless them all
not far from my small
and quiet movements
and variable mind states
a mirror to the not infrequent
police chase drama
flat tires
train crossing delays
a wreck on 526
a high wind on the bridge
death and inconvenience alike
backs them up
just out my front door
18 wheelers make the house shake
and help me to remember
that my feet are touching the floor
over a crawl space
that has me suspended over dirt
mixed with sand
from an ocean
which six million years before
expressed a different sort of highway
on this same spot.
Bowing to the size of time
and motion
and thoroughfare
heartbeats
within/without
in a dream
I might open my door
and instead of cars
there might be bellowing whales
once again
making their way
wailing a song about time.
Come back all my lovely
friends, who sit on my daybed,
patient question mark humans,
who drink tea and bless
the cars, the humans, the sea creatures
and ourselves, in timeless time marking
rituals of quiet love
for all who pass by here.
Life as Improv 