ASKING THE WAY

COPYING THE POEM IN MY OWN HAND

When I ask for directions

I never track the response to the way

So often I don't know how to be myself

So many roads don't go through

This morning I copy out the ancient lines

in my own hand to make certain

that it passes through my body.

As I rode my bicycle

around the neighborhood

a neighbor walked into the street

to tell me what had just taken place

Writing that poem in my notebook,

that's how the day happened for me

Jim Bodeen

24 April 2019