IMOGENE’S NOTEBOOK

Good Thing

A poem

Photo by Daniel van den Berg on Unsplash

Good Thing walked
down the middle
of the road
where the bitumen
was pitted
and the potholes
had started to cave in
and patches of
varyingly darker shades
had filled them in,
but to no avail
as the substrate
was never prepared too.

Good Thing wore
all of his clothes,
many of them threadbare,
to keep out the cold
and the heat,
which is to say
all of God’s tempers
at all hours and seasons,
whether the cosmic ball
on which he found himself
pointed to or way from the sun,
meaning the seasons and
their cycles,
of which fewer remained
every year
of Good Thing’s
life on this plane.