By George Freek
THINKING OF MY FRIEND (After Chu Hsi) A breeze rustles the leaves at the edge of the bay. The moon and the stars make night almost as clear as day. On the lake a loon calls, from very far away. The lake is a calm desert. But tonight a strong wind will blow. Waves will beat like furious fists against the rocks. I feel this anger is more real than the calm. It’s nature’s realm. My friend says we must look for the good. I find it hard to believe. Forgive me, my friend. I watch a worm, stranded in the grass, struggling in agony, until it finally reaches its predetermined end. I leave it alone, and walk carefully home.
George Freek’s poetry has recently appeared in The Ottawa Arts Review, Acumen, The Lake, The Whimsical Poet, Triggerfish and Torrid Literature.
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