The stories can be harsh
in the pervading gray of concrete
and rumbling thrum of traffic.
The young dad with a jitterbug son,
waving his arms to the sky,
while dad pushes sister,
the treasury of hope on stroller wheels
skittering over the ribbed sidewalk.
The manic boy juiced on sugar,
proclaiming ecstasy like a burgeoning Blake,
his message of unrepentant joy
sparking off the passing cars,
to challenge the sun
from the marrow of aliveness
bright in the limbs of the wild-eyed boy.
The treasury of hope, wow what a conecting line. A most recent sculpture to emerge here was at first named “Hope The Nation” has evolved into ” Rebirth of The Nation.” I’ll forward a picture on. Wonderful work Don. Thank You.
Imagery and remembrance… a strong call to this Elder.
Having girl juice, still, I love what you saw thrumming above the ribbed sidewalks.
That fire does rival the sun, for good and ill. We are captivated by it in many forms, forgetting often to look away, to the larger Fire forces and sources.
Thanks, Don. Nice picture of city life that cannot squelch the exuberant joy of being alive…regardless of the setting. Regardless of the sugar. The girl, a treasury of hope. The boy, a bit older and freer, a treasury of expression.
Man…these kids know how to do it.
Don–I love this! You’ve really worked hard on those active verbs, and it shows! Bravo!