Ground Clutter

Rain and thunder rolled in this morning. A cold chill hangs in the air. It is quiet here, I've already taken the car in for routine maintenance bright and early this morning and back home already. So starts the weekend.

While in the waiting room at the dealership, I let my mind take hold of my pen and scratched out some stuff in my journal. Nothing spectacular came of it.

I kept thinking of things going on around the world this week:

• I thought of Vice President Cheney and I had to ask myself what drives this man to to be so caustic and discordant? His remarks aimed at both China and Iran are not helpful to constructive dialogue.
• I'm wondered what was going through the heads of the Jurors in the I. "Scooter" Libby trial?
• I envisioned the rats running around the NYC Taco Bell. "Which way to the boarder?"
• And the building at Walter Reed Army Hospital with U.S. soldiers who returned home from war facing struggles with psychological issues and housed in deplorable conditions and primarily caring for themselves.

You may think I have too much time on my hands. Perhaps, but in the quiet of a Saturday morning this poet is finding it hard to clear his head of ground clutter.