Poem by david e bell, from the March 25 prompt

Voyaging through Time

The distance across my harbor
The equator of my world
At dawn
A chilly stroll
Up the driveway
from porch to mailbox
gray gravel
damp underfoot
a milk over cereal

From the box
collecting paper
mostly junk,
and bills for other people

I stare across
the country lane
distant houses
still dark
an empty echo
of a world beyond
slow fading into dream

Between breakfast
and lunch
UPS visits briefly
words at distance exchanged
a tiny box delivered
a replacement for a part
not failed, yet
living by water skills, now
courses plotted with deliberate care
provisions laid in for indeterminate
passages through time
The brown truck grumbles to life
a loud cough in an alien silence
and trundling off down the hill

Radio a constant companion
mostly ignored
background whispering
in the kitchen
more company
than I usually have
in these days of captive voyaging

through time
wind driven wandering
down a coast
in history soaked
that was once was
and will be again
wandering through currents
of time and space

Jumping from season
to season
slow racing
flowing north, flowering

The bushes
outside the window
bird empty
swaying yellow
evening bright
as the sun
slides down
through the trees

Image from #attthebirdfeeder © 2020 david e bell