by John Field 2015
Because I grew tired of playing it cool
In San Francisco’s cold gray fog
Noisy trolley cars clanking up
And down steep hills yammering
Fire trucks waking me up
The whole dense essence cadence
Rhythm and crazy flow
Of motion and commotion
City folks call real life
Here I’m closer to the man
I never knew
I might have been back then
Mornings easing me into them
With sun-befriended strolls
At 80 years per hour
Past vineyards and olive trees
So Tuscany
It’s as if I’m dreaming them
In all their moods and reasons
Why my wife’s out there
With the chickadees
And humming birds
Wooing home-grown
Heirloom tomatoes
Out of the earth in time
For dinner jazz and red wine
Then evenings simple
As a cradle song’s
Perpetual melody
We listen to so gently
It opens us up
To closed thoughts
We share with our hearts
Turning round and round
But slower now
Like wheels worn down
By the whims and habitations
Of old age remarkable
***
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