at red lights we press our lips together

Buddy's asleep on the porch, a shaft of sunlight is falling on the skeletal remains of my garden, and a most intriguing line has been left under Search Keywords in my stats: "at red lights we press our lips together."  And now, I'm looking out the window, trying to remember how long it's been since I kissed someone at a red light. The answer?   Far too long.


While I look at possibilities for remedying that, here's a poem I've been wanting to share with you. It seems like the right time.

"Looking at Things a Long Time"

Out there in the woods and along the road
are all sorts of books: anthologies
of trees, biographies of brooks, poems
by bees, novels in glaciers. Just look
around carefully, thinking about whatever your
gaze rests on. Notice that turn in the road
to which quite a few pages could be given.

Consider your own story, how you arrived
where you are. Think: what might be called
a dire imposition on your life actually
brought you down this path to where we
meet in a sparkling friendship. Explain that.

You've traveled roads you would never have chosen
and they've taken you nearer to what you deeply are
even though there were many strange
stopping places along the way. Don't look back.

There are turns we take away from the familiar
that would surprise a lot of people, until we
find ourselves finally again on the old street
gladly lending a hand or telling a story. We see
our own names written in other lives and find out
each day how to care more. We discover that people
listen better when we are often silent
and pondering, looking at things a long time.

~ John Cuno







Photograph by Vivian Maier