Poetry and Writes

Unchanging (POEM)

Walking home is a dull affair--
Down Tyler or Mason?
The choices pull lightly on my
Left arm, then on my right.
Most days, for fear of passing
By other people, I turn down Tyler
To watch the gravel run
Away from the predatory
Shadows of my boots.
I don't often bother to look
Elsewhere--for on Tyler days
The sky is white-gray, with
Thin clouds impenetrable,
The grass is green and
Snarled, and the street
Crumples to new heights
Of ruin every hour.
I've seen it all before.

I switch to the right side
Of the road, to wait at the
Meridian, junction between
Two ever-busy lanes.
One car passes, driver oblivious,
Then another, driver alert but uncaring.
I slink at last through the clear,
Turn once more, and start
Up the next long sidewalk--
It's not much different here,
No new sights for my eyes,
No looping birdsong to enlighten
My ears--but no matter.
The breeze never changes
So neither do I.