Sensation’s Pause

The plenitude of the similitude

Gives me pause as I gaze at the children

Gathered in a yard, miniature adults

Playing with materials of their age.

Slides, swings, hoola-hoops, bats, balls and cycles, 

The scene, sixty years removed from my youth

Enjoyed in a different place, different time,

With different parents, different trees,

Different friends, different differences,

But the same feel of plenitude’s grace

Within creation’s endless similitude

Of sights, sounds and smells different yet not

To those sixty years prior to this now

Where the robin, wren, cardinal and finch

Form a whole  Audubon society

A logical ornithological

Orchestra for this very time and place

Yet familiarly similar to that

Which I heard back when I was a youth. 

Staring in wonder at the wonder,

Of being so absorbed in the moment,

The momentousness of which, lost on them,

Profoundly felt in my bone marrow’s cells, 

I think of when will their Pied Piper come,

Lure away the spell of similitude,

The promise inherent of plenitude 

In our made up collective heritage,

Unique, individual, yet not

Much different than our fellow playmates,

Just as the multitude of bird songs

Tweeting in the background of our playgrounds

Fuse into one coherent, eternal,

Symphony of sound that lulls one’s senses

Into the ecstasy of life’s beauty,

Its circadian rhythms sectioning

Time, space and light into a photonic

Photograph where time’s actually timeless.

Suddenly, as I gaze at a baby

Awaiting its parental push to start

His world in motion, I see the swing

Moving, the hand not, a strange reversal

Of cause and effect to effect and cause,

Causing me pause beyond sensation.


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