Mow

As a child we had

Scythes and Sickles

But we didn’t use them

They just hung on nails

in the garage

Silent

Anachronistic

Magnetic

Still able

but worthiness superseded

by the Pains and Privileges

of Progress

Then comes a day

one Glorious

Magical day

when a Motorcycle appears

And of a sudden

the Sickles

and Scythes

become worthy

once more

with Purpose

and Promise

The Field out back

where the Old Barn

Shrugged & Sighed

would become a Venue

for Motorcycle Adventure

and Derring-do

But first had to come

The Sweat and

The Sacrifice

And the Hardening of soft hands

For The Way

had to be

Cleared

 

 

Filed under: Photography, Poetry Tagged: anachronisms, metaphors, motorcycles, mu, nature, photography, poetry, progress, scythes, sickles, spirituality, writing, zen