Boosters

 

Under a tree-lined canopy dappling sun upon the boulevard below 

a sleek polished limousine glides to the curb like a docking ocean liner

with only the sound of crackling leaves under tires scuffing against the curb.

It stops; I lean forward as a shaded rear window slides down venting a
rush of cool scented air upon my face.
I  strain to look inside and am started to see
Me, looking back at myself with the expression “I told you so.”
Imagination.

 

I look at my unscratched lotto ticket.

I see freedom from worry in paying my heating bill
I see friends children with college tuitions assured,
a book fund for my community library,
and immunizations for 1000  African children.
All this on a tiny scrap of printed paper
just waiting to enrich so many.
Hope.

 

I notice a woman pushing her toddler along

In a stroller past jungles and savannahs and forests
separated by gulley’s and fencing at City Zoo,
her child gurgling and jumping as they pass the animals.
At the camel enclosure they witness loud exuberant coupling.
With a gasp, Mother accelerates the stroller into warp speed
toward a more sedate tableau not requiring awkward answers.
Humor.

 

These are not the filigree on the gates

to the landscapes of my days.
They are the boost up to see over the walls
into the lush gardens that lie there,
inviting  me to smell, to admire, to dig in the dirt;
giving nourishment and care to it
reminding me I have but to just open the gate  and walk in.
Imagination, hope, and humor.

 -Jerry Wendt 2015