It's Still Life

Pinwheel Day’s

It’s not the time for asking questions;
I’m just a small piece
in this bright mosaic.

And the day pulls along
on wooden pinwheels.
Me, a bump and tumble

on this old hay wagon,
wedged like a slice
on its shallow seat,

led through sun-hot dust
by a pony with ghosts for bones
and a head like a melon.

Our rhythm runs in ruts
of copper dirt, along
a trail older than memory.

And there’s no direction
in my thoughts,
no direction in my feet.

I’m just wandering
in someone else’s dream.
This is not the time for asking questions.

written for Miz Quickly’s Day: 16 Blue Monday. Miz Q wants a reason for not feeling “blue”