The way it was for years and years

Every day

I drive my son

To catch the same bus,

At the same time,

To the same school.

The same five people

In the same clothes,

Blue collar, white collar,

Wait

On the same seat,

The arrival

Of the same bus.

They stand

At the same time,

Entering

In the same order,

Punching

The ticket machine

In the same way,

Day, after day, after day.

Greeting,

(Usually) the same driver,

In the same way,

Stepping

To the same seat,

In the same way,

Day, after day, after day.

I leave,

Following the same route,

Frustrated

By the same light,

Sonorously red,

Refusing pressure pad prompt,

(Although the road’s empty).

Teasing,

Tempting rules breach,

Day, after day, after day.

Finally released

Into idle traffic flow,

I pass

The same people.

Walkers, joggers, runners,

Pursuing the same routines,

In the same order,

Going to the same places,

Monday to Friday,

Day, after day, after day.

A man

Like a king,

Strides

Stick in hand,

Ahead of his spouse,

His special queen,

Ready to thwack

Intrusion

Into their private space.

Starting,

And finishing,

Within the sanctity of their abode.

A woman,

Thin,

Athletically clad,

Runs her dog,

Toward a day of canine languidness.

Recovering its energy,

While she works.

Two ladies

In earnest conversation

Talk away the metres,

Their walk secondary

To earnest discourse.

Yesterday’s happenings

Uppermost in their minds.

They seem unaware,

Of the lifted penumbra,

And escape

Of early morn,

Into the day.

Downhill

Strides a man.

Enthusiastic,

Sarong wrapped,

Sandle shod.

A stout, knobby staff,

Aids his energetic gait.

He walks with fervour,

Religiously propelled,

With no time to spare,

Before ministering

To the next needy soul.

Days, weeks, months,

Come and go.

This same ritual

Punctuates each day,

Each week,

Each month,

In the same way.

Each day,

Beginning anew,

Completing its cycle,

In the same way,

Day,

After day,

AFTER DAY.