How does it feel - the ride? (A poem, a warning, a prayer)

 

 

Wheels go round,

two of them,

legs pushing,

steady but relaxed,

enjoy the ride.

 

Farmers market,

post office,

bank,

garden plot,

and home.

 

Milk crate,

strapped to the back,

holds bag

of compost,

to join

the heap

at community garden.

 

Buses,

trucks, 

cars

rush by.

Always  

an edge of fear

as some come

closer than others.

Everybody is in a hurry,

cars are made to

go zooom. 

Think about gas

prices....

Saw one EU country 

saying

all cars in future 

must be electric.

Starve Putin they say.

Plug the cars 

into what?

Nuclear, coal

or oil burning

power plants?

Electric cars

are a slim fix.

Like a leafless

tree.

 

It's the way we live,

and think.

Poisoned minds,

poisoned planet.

Biden says to 

US farmers,

'buy Russian

fertilizer'.

Same time

Washington

sends more weapons

to Kiev.

 

Makes no fucking sense.

We got everything 

to lose

in this wild

high-stakes

card game.

 

Lift the damned sanctions

and stop killing

Russian-ethnics

in eastern Ukraine.

 

So wheels

go round...

it's a magic

swirling trip,

love and joy 

mixed with

nostalgia, 

anticipation 

and despair.

 

Where are we heading?

 

Keep riding....

keep paddling....

keep singing....

let me always

remember

what makes

it all go-round.

 

Amen

 

Bruce