Too hot.

Energy sapping hot.

I have great thoughts but they can’t get past the headache.
A cool drink helps, but not for long. 
The fan blows warm air around my head. 
Thoughts do not cool.


A diamond cutter studies the raw crystal.
Marks a line.

A tap cleaves it in two. 
An irrevocable step. 
Choose wrong and the value is lost. 
No do over.


Fear stays the hammer blow. 
Reach for the jeweler’s loupe to study the problem afresh.

Time passes. 
Dust settles.  T
he stone remains uncut, it’s value unrealized. 
It’s beauty hidden by indecision.

The tap. 
Steel edge driven by a sharp tap with a hammer. 
Only one chance. 
Only one choice. 
Choose right and the beauty gleams. 
Choose wrong and your heart breaks.

Or don’t choose and let hope stay on a shelf. 
Don’t choose and let the beauty remain hidden. 
Don’t choose and let life pass you by.

Hot.  Heat blinding the mind.

In the shop a picture sits covered in dust. 
Just four cuts left. 
Which four to make?

In the past a choice was made. 
Was it the right path? 
Did I tap along the right line? 
Is that demon banished?

On the horizon ships approach. 
More choice. 
Which leads to fulfillment? 
Which leads to beauty. 
What line do I draw?

Will there be more ships? 
More lines to draw?


The ripples rise on a distant highway obscuring the vision. 
The distant mountains shimmer as my strength fails.

Come, cooling river. 
Ocean breezes flow. 
Darkness fall, and sleep restore my weary soul.

Tomorrow and tomorrow come.

Give my soul the strength to,


About Andrew Reynolds

Born in California Did the school thing studying electronics, computers, release engineering and literary criticism. I worked in the high tech world doing software release engineering and am now retired. Then I got prostate cancer. Now I am a blogger and work in my wood shop doing scroll saw work and marquetry.
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2 Responses to Tap

  1. Wow, Andrew, When did you start writing poetry? Very visceral work with the feelings coming through so clearly that I am mopping my own brow. Even though I am freezing sitting in my air conditioned house.


    • Andrew says:

      Oh, I’ve been writing poems for the last 20 years. I don’t write poetry very often and post one only rarely. It’s a kind of writing that takes a lot of energy or angst.

      I will admit that lately I’ve been thinking of doing less prose and more of the poetic form.


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