Both brought to you courtesy of osp_feed.
Waterfront Café
By John Isbell
I sat at the waterfront café.
The stone bridge’s near side was rooted in the soil,
While the other disappeared into infinity.
I saw a bird fly across it
From a species not yet discovered,
With air beneath its wings.
I saw a man and a dog cross.
A mother crossed without her children.
A procession honoring the god Vishnu crossed,
With music and strewing rose petals.
A mathematical equation with 16 symbols crossed,
And the word “endeavor.”
A forest crossed slowly.
A large fish crossed.
I drank my coffee on the terrace,
As the light moved toward evening.
My parents crossed in old-fashioned outfits.
A train crossed with a red caboose,
And people waving.
A small boy crossed.
A meadow crossed after him.
The Andromeda Galaxy crossed, too fast for vision.
Workmen put up a sign, “Closed For Repairs”,
And the bridge was still,
Save for a faint vibration in the air
And the smell of rose petals
In the gathering evening light.
Pear Tree
By John Isbell
Each blossom on the pear tree
Hurtles through space
At a speed I cannot imagine.
Water lifts slowly
From the roots
Through the trunk
To every thirsting branch.
All around, grass goes about its business.
The white pear blossoms
Litter the blue sky,
A magnificent architecture.
The branches reach up.
Those blessed with smell,
From rabbit to man,
Are made drunk when they draw near.
This is a perfect being.
The trunk is cool to the touch, and present.
The blossoms flutter in the slightest current,
Like paper boats.
I greet the pear tree,
And it nods gently.
We share this air.
