I grew up fast, I missed my dad's advice,
and I was forced to skip the passage rites.
The oldest of the kids, I paid the price
and grew up fast. I longed for dad's advice,
adulthood seemed so daunting, so concise-
no boyhood dreams, no bugs beneath the lights.
I grew up fast while missing Dad's advice
when I was forced to skip the passage rites.
As life abounds and agitation reigns,
and threat of war results from bloodied creed,
world politics, like alligator weed,
clogs efforts to unwind its bonds and chains.
A misconception of the world remains
that violent disputes and utter greed
is all the future holds as they succeed,
especially as media explains.
I watch the sun sink slowly from the sky,
into horizon's widely open arms,
no city noise or army's battle cry,
just nature and the small surrounding farms.
Tranquility will always underlie
the human playground and its false alarms.
The sunrise gives me pause,
though dawning brings new verve,
its sunlight reaches in
despite my optic nerve
still trying to block possibility.
The sunlight that I see
consists of photon streams
that traveled through dark space,
surviving harsh extremes,
unaware of its human utility.
The moonlight even comes,
while brightening the night,
as vestiges of sun,
thus claiming solar right
to raise lunar visibility.
As sun lifts higher still,
my thoughts begin to wane,
the turmoil of the day
now occupies my brain,
but no longer spewing futility.
Jack has published over 350 poems in his career, many with his own photography. He specializes in a view of the commonplace and Americana.