poems as hand- and foot-holds on a glass mountain

Counted On

young passengers on long car trips
would sometimes count birds
or fenceposts to fight off boredom
the mind making order
when it seemed there was only
order-making discontent

sunlight on heavy forest
on either side of a grey roadway
hills rising and falling away
sunlight making found-drab colors
vivid, cartoonish, entertaining

the young will be entertained
or make their own excitement
in a world yet unsorted

do birds and fenceposts have numbers
before we give them numbers?
one wonders out loud
his fellows give them letters instead
using the other most common order-herd
they trade off every few minutes

what can be counted on
is mid-morning sunlight
freshening a great air-ocean
whose invisible waves ride over us
brushing our faces with their sleeves
cheering at us through the car windows
like fans running alongside a celebrity’s motorcade
waves breathlessly new pleading to be counted

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