Day 3 - 30 poems in 30 days

Small Bend In the Road – Unincorporated


Five days a week I drive the same highway

east in morning, west in evening

but today is Friday – I’m working from home

and I miss that speck on the map

named Thursday, West Virginia.


It’s just a building now,

pale green frames around

two windows and the door,

bright green awning across the

porch that spans the front.


A bench still waits

below the right window,

big boards beneath the left,

as if repairs are to be made,

as if this might someday be more.


What’s is like to always live in Thursday,

perpetually stuck in day five?

No Monday, Saturday, no day of rest,

always waiting for what is to come,

knowing only what was, is past.


Is there a lesson here?

Is this the birth of mindfulness,

of being in the present?

Is this where the guru of meditation
waits for each of us?

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