Alone on the Side of the Pond

At high noon and alone I am still in my case.
Looking through the eggshell reflecting my own face.
One that is quite foreign, but much like all the rest.
Never did I question, Is living just a test?
Every other mayfly born into this garden

only has a slim chance or a beggar’s bargain.
Never have I ever witnessed it so clever,

the cycle of nature and the natural order.
Here in the Zen garden which has filled in quite nice,
Each one standing up straight, aromatic and spiced.

Six vie for the spotlight, circling the border.
Indexed against the fence tiger lilies delight.
Double blooming peony, you are so dear to me.
Each head hung like a mop playing a symphony.

Oh how I love the spring, and all of her trimmings.
Fortune favors the bold, and to her the winnings.

The circle of life/death it repeats every day.
Howl if you must, you can’t change it, this is the way
Every ecosystem, every terra world forms.

Puddle, lake or river the mighty Mayfly lives.
On throughout the eons, he takes what nature gives.
Never thinking past now, look to the seeds you sow,
Don’t step on planted rows, pay back what you still owe.

Hour Four, 12pm

Alone on the Side of the Pond
(form Acrostic/ /Kiln, Alexandrine series 4 of 24)
Charlie the Mayfly.

v.j.calone