Grey-dark-clouds up on hill
Leaves blow upwards
Street goes still
Hot-drops-rain for just a pause
13 wearing yellow.
Blaze-bright-sun push through cloud
Thumb at forehead
Propped for shroud
Sweat down back, and backs of knees
20 wearing yellow.
Breeze-light-incline, climb the stair
Deer in bushes
Bird in air
Throat hum slight with just an itch
Only 2 wear yellow.
Early up, and early leave
Air-hazed-badly
Lungs harsh heave
Whisper breathe til strong again
18 wearing yellow.
Push-through-crowds, camps are here
Weather pleasant
Song in ear
Backpack heavy, heart quite light
30 wearing yellow.
This poem is just a pleasant roundabout examination of a week I had, mostly so I could play with verse structure. I kind of always have a running tally of numbers in my head: most prominently, counting the number of people wearing yellow. (It started a few years ago and I haven’t stopped since.)
The sisyphean task of walking to work can be as dull as you’d think, but you can also make it special by simply looking around you. There were a lot of things I wanted to include in this one — birdsong, cloud shapes, the way your shirt feels when it’s stuck to your backpack, hair sticky with rain, steam rising off the pavement — but ultimately I think this poem’s simplicity is one of its virtues.
Enjoy!
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