Arlene Corwin writes

A Day Of Thinking or

This Is The Way My Brain May Work On Any Given Day

           Breakfast In Bed

No one in this world

Makes thinner toast,

Better toast, winner toast.

You do not boast.

How have you learned to slice

This near-transparent, indisputably crunchy piece of bliss!

What skill! And modest too!

No one can make such toast as you.

                Going In To Thank

Going into different segments of the brain

I thank for life in any of the synapses.

Is there a gratitude partition

Or a separate, section - special one?

An all-inclusive?

I don’t always feel it – just today.

It probably will go away.

I hope it leaves a record.

          Late Afternoon

Deep, deep inside

I’m feeling tired of society.

It’s like what I imagine to be

What they call depression.

It’s connected to reality; civilization.

There’s the problem -

It’s not me, it’s them!

I ought to put away the TV (I’ve no phone)

Things electronic, dailies, monthlies,

All things histrionic;

The destructive, scandalous and shocking;

All things not-to-be: illusory.

Noel Coward wrote “World Weary” –

A light song for something serious.

Perhaps that’s it!

There still exist fall hues phantasmagorical:

Food tastes, sweet music, friends amusing, loyal,

Beauty, animals…and still I feel

Despite the goodness,

Deep, deep sadness at the mess.

Synapse -- McKella Sawyer