Reaching

You hand hesitates,
unsure which to reach for first,
which to grasp,

the magnifying glass,
it’s burled handle
holding the gaping round lens,
so eager to focus
on what is in front of you,
to find the details
that escape your old eyes,
changing nothing,
but exposing
more;

or the telescope,
to look beyond the horizon,
to see what is suspected,
but not quite seen, to see
if the distance is fleeing
or rushing towards you
with a lover’s abandon.

You hand hesitates.

About this poem

I went to the Townshend Auction Saturday, one of my great vices. I bought nothing, but this little box with it’s glasses and compass, caught my eye, and the image of it has rattled in my mind ever since.

Choices. The past or the future? Where to pour our energy, our focus, our hearts? There is no right or wrong answer, but the decisions we make, no matter what they are, change everything.

Tom