Sagepaper

This poem begins with an early childhood memory. When we lived in the Southwest, we took a number of trips to Mexico. I have a collection of happy memories from these excursions. I remember seeing a Gazebo in what looked like a park. I was fascinated, and Dad took me to it. It was an amazing thing for a toddler. I remember it as being far bigger than it likely was. I think I stood on a bench and looked out from it. I wanted to stay there, but, alas, all good things must come to an end.

In trying to recapture the memory, I encountered one of my oddities: waiting. I tried to find a more mainstream way of describing how I felt. The fact is, though, my reaction was not mainstream. I could say it might have been an inclination shared by all toddlers, but that has not been my observation. More tellingly, though, my enjoyment of waiting has improved over time, making me ever more out of synch with my peers. Most people grow less tolerant of waiting as time passes.

To me, waiting is an activity. It is not simply the time between two events. Most people think of it as if it were empty time. They try to fill the time. Some seek amusements, some do work, some read for pleasure, and some try to take actions to shorten the wait. When I wait, I usually get physically as comfortable as I can, and begin observing. I am not Zen-like. I don't empty my mind of all thoughts. I don't busy my mind with trying to problem-solve, either. I just settle into my surroundings and wait. Sometimes, I wait so well that I am a little annoyed or disappointed when it is time to stop waiting.

I'm still brushing-up my poetry skills. I am uncomfortable with punctuation in my poetry. It can mess up the meter. I still need it for clarification, though. I would welcome any suggestions. This seems to me "postable" though. At least, the subject matter is not how difficult it is to write in this or that location. Here's the poem:

I remember a Mexican village
The plaza Gazebo looked great
And my eyes were bedazzled by foliage
I wanted to sit down and wait

That's a talent I have in great measure
It doesn't command too much pay
But it turns common nuisance to pleasure:
I practiced and learned how to wait

I'm no cheater who finds occupations
Connecting the dots of events
I can wait, undistracted, with patience
When waiting, my mind is content