Friday Sounds

the late afternoon air is
filled with Friday sounds
that don’t seem as loud

as other days

there is an endless stream
of car horns truck horns
school buses rushing by

the bulk garbage trucks
that normally come on
Mondays whipped through

the neighborhood in twos
there was nothing to
pickup

I was wrong

as they were filled with
fallen trees that must
have blocked a street

nearby

train horns chime in as
long lumbering trains
cross town holding up

rush hour traffic as
they go

it seems many of the
people are impatient
possibly eager to die

no masks
no vaccinations
they rather believe

the lie

who is willing to hear

the late afternoon air is
filled with Friday sounds

Invisible Visible

prayer is the only
application of faith
that can turn

anxiety into trust
and trust into hope
when there are no

visible solutions to
the problems at hand

the act of prayer
invites the power of
God to solve the

unsolvable

I cannot see the
answer today but in
God’s time he will

make that which
is invisible visible

But Not for Me

the wind is moving sweetly
from a tree here then over
there dropping a whisper

here then over there but
not for me like the song
of the same name

even so a gentle breeze
touched me to remind me
that hope is never lost

only momentarily forgotten
but always within reach of
a believing heart and mind

there was a time when I
thought that hope was for
everyone else but not for me

To Be or Not To Be

as soon as I sat down in my chair on the
patio it started to rain again

I had to wear a light vest and as I lit a late
afternoon cigar I listened to

what seemed to be a host of kettle drums
sitting on the metal roof that would fade

in and out

then it slowed down to the sound of big
drops running off the roof to the worn

grass below that looked like a giant sheet
on a player piano rolling down

now that reminded me of the Steinway
that sat in our living room and

my piano teacher who quit

sometimes kids can’t be forced to be who
their parents wanted to be or want them to be

this can set the stage for a life of failure upon
failure upon failure

to this day I can sing some say as sweetly as
Nancy Wilson but I can’t play a thing

or read music yet there has been a choir or
two here and there

and that nervous but fine solo on Danny Boy

but my folks spent a lifetime discouraging me
from doing anything that I wanted to do

so acting and singing among other things
simply faded away like most of my dreams

much like the rain falling off the roof to
the ground

Tomorrow’s Train

the horn blasts of the noon train
were distorted floating in and out
on the strong and gusty winds

the sounds of this train faded to
the right of where I sat on the
back patio

a second faster train followed
horn blasting through town as it
moved away heading north

It seems that my dreams were
not in the wind or on a train

they pile up in my memory like
railroad ties stacked up in an
abandoned siding yard

birds don’t dream they fly
can you tell a bird not to fly
same-o same-o

people don’t fly they dream
can you tell people not to dream

at this point I doubt my dreams
will come true they could they
might but so far they never have

so I’ll be waiting for the wind and
tomorrow’s train