Less than half a mile away the men in bright yellow vests work on a five story condo. The cranes in the air circle, their long wide arms carry slabs of concrete and oversized planks of sheathing.
Above the background beeps of backing trucks and moving parts, drills and saws work their way through metal. The loud booms of heavy objects falling in to place echo. The moving sounds of construction hum punctuated hammers and the pop pop of nail guns.
A woman fit and lean jogs by, her blond pony tail bouncing side to side. She stops to take a picture of a patch of buttercups. Up close they fill and expand beyond the frame. A wild and tiny forest ceiling of yellow and green.
A serious winds blows against the swift downstream current. Smooth undulating waves and small whitecaps form trace lines of fizz on the brown and gray Mississippi.
The world had stopped though trains and clouds heavy and slow roll across the bridge from Arkansas to Tennessee.
A careful man with the countenance of a watchmaker sits on the edge of a park bench adjusting and oiling and cleaning his rifle of a bicycle all chrome and sleek – stretched out like a mid 1950s dream. In a world made slow he gears up for break-neck speed.
In the age of social distancing they say the earth’s vibrations slowed.
Downwind from the stand of trees with white flowers blooming the air smells sweet and grape-like.
***This isn’t quite a poem, and was more of an experiment in being present. I spent the morning reading some really great poems by Robert Hass and with my head filled I went out for a walk with the intent of paying attention. I did something similar a few weeks ago where I sat on a bench and tried to capture the world around me (I don’t think I wrote it out here on the blog). Today I took a walk along the river. I intentionally left the ear buds out so I could hear the sounds and pay attention. These times are an odd juxtaposition: everywhere there are signs of spring and growth yet the world remains mostly shuttered. The grape smelling tree (which is fantastic) might be a Texas mountain laurel – I love walking by it. The man with the bike let me take a picture – it’s a pretty rad machine and looks like it has a CO2 booster on it.
