Passages

Left to itself heat goes cold.

A match must be struck,

A fire lit to keep the boil.

A lady at the next table scrolls through her photos of family and friends

And laughs at places she has been.

The waitress brings coffee with a winning smile and I order my usual brunch.

All around fellow travelers talk and eat;

Each follow different paths

yet with common themes:

To hunt respite,

To stoke their fire

With lasting vitality.

Each of us tends our flame,

In concert with rules well known

And habits unbroken.

All tokens promised to work.

Beliefs to wrap us securely

And hold back the cold.

Our thoughts and smiles,

Our hopes and dreams—

Burning embers of industry —

Give off light and warmth,

As we churn cheerfully to our cosmic destiny.

Where no sweater or blanket can elude the cold

And all may ponder where to find one more match.

thh

9/19/23