A square of lucid green flickers against the
blue sky of a sunny winter day,
catching my eye as I walk towards the common.
Soon I discover the source of the color
an old man in a wheelchair covered with rags
tethering the winds with a fishing pole, unknown Aelous of the city.
I pause to watch but he beckons me
offering me the reigns and
together we admire the graceful spontaneous dance.
I wonder if he feels alone
if old age has crippled his body and mind
and heart I wonder if I am alone, but suddenly I muse:
We are yesterday’s children playing with the air,
We are tomorrow’s painters coloring the sky,
We are timeless spirits sharing a moment of beauty.