Poem: Zen

I meditate on the trees – Zen.
Life is short, today is an installment In this extremely short life.
Fall is here, then followed by winter, then summer, then another fall.
My skin is half-wrinkled. I will become fully-wrinkled soon in this race against time.

I make my way BSing through life.
Why do they call that “impostor syndrome”?
Better than having “Stockholm Syndrome”

There’s hope, the nature on Earth, the universe out there.
We may go but everything continues.
Do we think we count more than a hurling asteroid, a swaying tree, a glowing star, a scampering bunny?
Why? Because we make more noise?

Rain drops on leaves.
Leafblower dude comes and blows said leaves on to the neighbour’s yard.
News fills up my screens, tablet, cell, and laptop.
Kids play. Seniors hobble. Youth and middle agers scurry.

As Louie Armstrong sang, “What a Wonderful World”.
Not sure what he meant, but I’m hoping to soon find out.

LOL and LMFAO.

~ Gunnar Våken