Twelve Convections

Twelve Convections


A shadow grows across the fence
As days seep into marrow;
The world has never seemed so wide,
Nor choices seemed
So narrow


If everything I ought to be
Was anything I was,
Then I would build a boat of dreams,
And live there just


The scheduled life’s a harried one,
The listless life’s a bore:
We know that we must do with less,
And yet keep wanting

12 CV - 2


We search for love, all unaware
Of what it does to fools —
And many times the fight is lost
Before we’ve learned
The rules


So daily, publicly, we’ll try
As killer, thief or phony,
Those we have only heard about
From rival’s


There’s beauty in the autumn wet,
And in the summer dry;
And winter will know laughter, ere
The spring begins
To cry

12 CV - 3


They say that love’s a flower,
Fed by sun, and soil, and rain;
But when it’s gone, we’re never sure
That it will bloom


There’s some buoyed up by character,
And others by belief:
But none of that seems any good
When you are racked
With grief


The soul turned out finds exercise,
The soul turned in, its rest;
Yet foolishly, we argue over
Which way is
The best

12 CV - 4


So many things we read, in which
We place our full reliance –
But thinking that the world was flat:
Well, that used to
Be science


Decisions that we lightly take
When we’ve more to consider —
So many times we sell our hearts
To the low-offer


What we have failed to do, at last,
Comes back to us in starkness;
The shadows come at close of day
To melt us in
To darkness

(“Convection” — the act of conveying or transporting.)

12 CV - 5

Author: Sibelius Russell

Sibelius Russell (a/k/a/ Owen "Beleaguered" Servant) lives a life of whimsical servitude -- whatever that means.

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