She writes a line or two -
thoughts on paper,
on cyber.
She wonders about art -
ephemeral art,
art in nature,
ever evolving,
changing with the seasons -
with birth and death and rebirth,
art of masters long ago and cave dwellers,
long lasting art.

What of the art that did not last ?
the millions trillions of art
executed only to become dust,
like the remnants of planets and stars
burnt out -
speckles of universe dust.

She rips the papers -
scatters them to the winds.
Her words twirl and turn
towards the October sun.
They fly around
with the October wind.
Her head spins.
Her thoughts broken -
they land on grass and pavement
and passersby
trample over them.
She feels a sense of relief.
Her poetic expressions
take a journey
in the air,
fly around and hit the ground
and now are dissolving with the rains.
It feels good and her stress rides low.

She wonders about conceptual art -
ideas never realized -
thoughts never put to paper -
transforming works -
erosions of sands and
ice melting sculptures,
dancers and theatre,
slam spoken word poetry,
timeless poems and
bubble gum poetry music -

Her head spins.
A piece of her poem
lands on her boot.
ephemeral experience -
She keeps walking -
wondering.
Poetry in the air -
Poetry everywhere.

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Copyright©2017-1999 by Rebecca R. Hammack

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