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Time Under Cedars

Cloudy. Sunday afternoon.

A river, just off to the west --
hard to tell it's there
flowing silently under ice.
Time passing.
Sometimes you don't notice.

I cross the field on snowshoes
brown weed stalks here and there
and pick my way around the end of a fence
to where river-bank cedars are thick.

Year by year, deer have browsed
away all the lower boughs.
Rabbits shelter here. You can see
how their tracks disappear.

I can duck right under.
Wow! It's like a living room
with wooden pillars.

All that's missing is a chair and TV.

The TV changes everything.
It eats time. No one sees it happening.

I could drown in a bowl
of cheese dip, watching
the game, under here.
Wouldn't be missed for a week.

The emperor would lose a loyal subject.
The world would lose a smart-ass.
Perhaps some good could come of it.

Time to leave.
I duck out into a world of fresh snow and sunshine.
Look! It's Tuesday!

-- Mi Fa-So

Time Under Cedars © D.M. Wideman, 2014

Main Gate | Mi Fa-So Poems | Copyright