Thursday, April 18, 2013

4292. MY SCIENCE

MY SCIENCE
Not being tentative has its benefits;
stern to a fault and righteous about that.
Amble with me past the place of this grange:
See the miniature sailboat, as the boy sails
it along the pond, while above him shimmer
the skyscrapers of an egregious city unknown
yet to his inner life. There will be time for all that.
Right now, and more importantly, he watches
the sails as they shimmer in the breeze. Nothing
vast or untoward, just a gentle afternoon move.
-
It is like that everywhere : I know his mother and
I know his dad - they are both absentee now, and
the boy here lives with his aunt and uncle. By degrees,
he is learning what this is all about. His Science is yet
indwelling, learning of pride of place and self and doing.
There really is no place for sadness on the glass of water.
-
For myself, these tired experiments are nearly over and
the lines of my Science are spent and done, ready for
erasure. Well, nearly anyway. I do hope yet, insist, on
a few more odd equations chalked up on the board,
things no one else can figure out, things I'll be the
one, alone, to know the key for and the answer.
-
That is my hope : this life still engrains an expectation
even beneath my very tired skin and eyes.

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