Paths of Time

Ten Miles before Tea

I hiked,
Walked,
Wandered,
And strolled.

I looked,
Peeked,
Stared,
And studied.

I spoke
To the clouds,
Trees,
Shrubs,
And grasses.

I sang
To the four leggeds,
The winged,
Finned,
And slitherers,

My plan was to hike ten miles before tea
And here it is evening, and I’ve gone about three.

Vi Jones
©May 25, 2009

A Sigh in the Wind

My voice is no more than a sigh in the wind,
A falling leaf,
One among many,
A raindrop that doesn’t touch the ground,
A tiny bird lost in a storm.

So what does it mean if I am not heard,
Not noticed,
Not recognized?

It means simply
That I walk a different path,
That I shun the mob,
The crowd,
The social scene.

And does it really matter
If I find not the fame I seek
So long as I keep seeking?
For when there is nothing more to seek,
There will be nothing left,
Except the deep, dark void of inner space.

Vi Jones
©August 16, 2008