I see shallow children through the window

playing by the beach

with parents pushing swings so high

as high as they can reach

The road is slow, the traffic locked

‘til lights change and we move –

drivers with one thing on their mind –

or a thousand thoughts tossing

turning – all of different kinds

Hatchbacks, four-wheel-drives, sports cars

and the odd sedan – Diane,

Mustafa, Willow, Jake and John –

going… going… going –

coming from

The dash reads 8:47 –

fourteen minutes I’ll be late for work

I take a u-turn ‘round the round-a-bout

and then I drive below the tower where

I spend my day – with hopes to thrive

We come from varied pasts – across

the ditch, from southern states

Little Canada – beyond

so disparate, no fear –

in one place at one time

conducting lives we call careers

Working for a second income

striving for promotion for the few

or waiting for a better role beyond –

beyond the horizon past the window past the view

What then for head-sets, staring –

screens aware that eyes are fading

as they read data duller by the day

What then… what then is there to say…

I walk outside at lunch and see a man –

a man with wrinkled face and time to spend

pushing a trolley housing home

along a path that has no end

Next morning there’s a needless noise

outside – a bird is chirping –

sitting atop the street sign

on the corner in my view

I consider him a moment

a happy chap – gratitude his friend –

a noisy miner singing to the few –

Graciousness is holding my hand, too. 

—————

 Not what we have but what we enjoy constitutes our abundance
(Epicurus)