Beyond the Grid

Beyond the Grid

(“Give praise to God. He has accepted my prayer. He has not held back his love from me.” Psalm 66:20)

Across the boulevard, sidewalk to sidewalk,
 the asphalt grid divides the green patches;
like half-open eyelids the exhaustive haze mixes
mankind and sunny days. Our ways of walking timed
just so;
at the push of a button we are told to “stop” or to
“go”. “Walk”, “Don’t Walk”, verdant, yellow, and ruby;
the city is full of desert riverbeds holding the
metallic current within its banks.

Beyond the grid with x and y lattice,
five miles out of town, maybe eight or nine,
the lattice work is overhead, the lines crisscrossing
an open sky. Hills rise steeply and roll their carpet out
into meadows and playrooms for picnics and fawns. Freedom
invites
(without button punctuation) constant exploration,
following streams and crossing logs just because
there are more rooms of mossy walls just up the
opposite bank.

Our faces change from grid to lattice. We cross
the avenues hurriedly, avoiding touch or glances.

Our smiles return in open meadows. Children run and
one becomes three becomes five becomes a game
of tag for an entire afternoon. We would just as soon
watch their wonder than fight for a window seat
for a quick bite
lunchtime across the street.

Hopes and concrete, prayers and bare feet,
we are full as we wish to be. But the questions that plague
our fast-track seem irrelevant washing the grass stains from
new jeans after a meadow afternoon.