Blur
The seconds tick, the minutes race,
__The hours fly,
__The days flash by,
The weeks go at a breakneck pace—
__I wonder why
__I even try;
The months, the years, the decades pass,
__All I’ve pursued
__Becomes worm food;
I strive to do it all—alas—
__I’m left to brood
__On finitude.
Son and Moon
The door creaked open, and my son
popped softly in, reminding me
what I should do ere day was done:
that supermoon I had to see.
“Did you go look,” I asked, “and did
you see it?” “Yeah, I went just now.
It’s big, and super bright,” he said,
“Not blue—but worth it anyhow.”
I left his sleeping siblings’ room,
went down the stairs and to our yard,
where high above, that dazzling moon
shone down and left me blinking hard—
not merely ‘cause its beauty would compel me,
but more because my son had thought to tell me.
Unfinished Business
One more load of laundry
one more stack of plates
one more meal to cook
one more bed to make;
Fold and store the clothing,
set the table, then
clear more dirty dishes,
soon it’s off to bed;
Put on my pajamas—
now more dirty clothes
waiting for tomorrow,
making one more load.
Sometimes I’m frustrated
things are never done—
get one task completed,
there’s another one…
But life is unfinished business—
just look at the plants and trees,
as they endlessly cycle through seasons,
growing and losing their leaves;
And so much of life is doing—
just look at the bees and ants,
busily bearing their cargo
as long as they have the chance.
Life is moving and growing,
we earn and then we spend;
while about the business of living,
we don’t want to hear “the end.”
So I smile at the piles of laundry
as within me I softly pray,
“Thank You, Lord, for unfinished business,
And for giving me one more day.”
A Pennsylvania native now residing in Colorado, Anna J. Arredondo is an engineer by education, a home educator by choice, and by preference, a poet. She also has poems published (or forthcoming) in The Lyric, Time of Singing, Light, Blue Unicorn, Better Than Starbucks, and WestWard Quarterly.
Tempis fugit! These poems have a wonderful feel of Wisdom literature underpinning them, and the brooding on finitude is a vitally important role for the poet – helping us, the readers, thereby to come to terms with the conditions of life. Very skilfully written – I enjoyed these a lot.