Joy

The translucent, plastic bag,

as weightless as lingerie, lufts

in the gentle Thai breeze and

rises above my outside walk. 

For a moment it looks like a jelly

fish, buoyant and hung in mid air.

Its job of carrying something

needed back to us is done, and

now unexpectedly free, soars

a few pathetic feet, trying to

reach, I suppose, the clouds,

the stars and the great beyond.    

It crashes, and as I walk to pick

it up, another soft breeze catches

it and moves it away like jetsam

rolled back and forth by the master’s

tide on the ocean’s floor.  It dances

and skitters in the mincing little steps 

of a rock singer, arms up, head down

and . . . escapes my hand.   

FG  2/20/2014

I was thinking of James Brown, the hardest working man in show business.

It’s cool and overcast here today, and for the first time in months there is a slight chance of rain.  I’m not sure lufts is a word or that I’ve used it correctly, but it sounds right.