The pond in our condo,
soundless without its splashing fountains,
rests against a quiescent morning.

Hoary frost on its surface
shimmers against the bluing sky.
Crackles slightly with the traffic noise
that hustles by outside of the gates.

Inside, cars race their engines to shake off the cold
belching white clouds of smoke to
transport workers to places
where they suffer recognition.

The rest reside,
pseudonymous beings,
against a backdrop of abbreviated time.

The travelers just don’t recognize it yet.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s