The mysteries and vagaroes of natural elements.


Sunset happens,
depending upon the time of year
and one’s latitude,
somewhere between the early news
and the late night wrap-up,
un-attended for the most part

An event common to ageless sweeps
across mankind’s history,
for the pause before sleep,
for the silent holding of hands
and holding of thoughts
before another day

And we find ourselves
Among the most trivially and relentlessly
Informed of that spread of generations,
back to the big-bang of creation
Underwhelmed and overfed,
but no fact or whimsy left unspoken

In this swamp of reality and fancy,
neighbors bury their dead
and bury their heads
in isolated hands, weeping
All pain covered by the flickering image,
smiles shielding broken lives

Event becomes a blur upon event
all choice becoming none at all,
one collage on top of another,
intervening, in-betweening
The hand and thought spread out
during endless unattended sunsets

Poetry Collection: Broken Pieces
This poem is included in
Jim Freeman’s
poetry collection
available here in print
or as an e-Book
in your favorite formats.