Author's note, 29th October 2017. I had forgotten about this poem. It's not perfect, but I think it's worth saving, yes?

Walk Upon the Road

Termites eating away
at the timbers of peace,
teem and breed
in my restless head
when I'm indoors
and over-thinking things.

Like a cloud of flies,
or drastic static,
or flagrant smog:
doubts, worries,
bad interpretations,
anticipating the worst.

So what's the cure?

What puts these fiends

to rout, to flight?

I step outside
and face the sun
(or the rain as it may be).
I plunge myself
into my communities.

And, yes, the word must be plural:
communities of neighbours,
of poets, of merchants,
of friends, of churchfolk,
of random passersby.

I say good morning
to the shy librarian,
nod hello to the intense jogger,
smile at the stooped veteran
who empties coins
from the parking meters.

I go to Not Your Average Joe's,
to Shanghai Village,
to the Book Rack,
to Gail Ann's Coffee Shop.

Daylight or starlight,
faces and voices,
a stiff gust of wind,
the scent of lilacs
or of industry:
these obliterate
the phantom ills
of my over-active mind.

James Stephens,
you said it best:
Let us go out
and walk upon the road.

Poetry by Thomas DeFreitas The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 221 times
Written on 2017-06-30 at 20:07

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Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Speaking as one who has been cooped up far too much lately, I endorse your prescription.

ken d williams The PoetBay support member heart!
Bravo, Tom