Both brought to you courtesy of osp_feed.
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.
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.