Searching for Clues

by John Herlihy

I go through my day searching for clues,

As I walk through the day in my trusty shoes.

Barren and thread-bare, shoes with gaping holes,

The day walks away with me with these worn-out soles.

Hmmn, this sounds familiar, did I say worn out soul,

Deep within the heart of things, something our lives stole.

We wake up in the morning, knowing what it all meant,

We lay ourselves down in slumber, when the day is spent.

Indeed, the days themselves feel as if on borrow,

Never knowing for certain if the future holds tomorrow.

We work, we play and rest, always seeking a kind of bliss,

Yet what we end up with are things we desperately miss.

Searching for clues that will our desperation relieve,

Seeking our fortune and success our fulfillment to achieve.

Yet what we achieve runs through our fingers like sand,

The message of the hourglass before us as reprimand.

All around us, the signs and signposts of nature abound,

A blessed silence that our beating hearts surround.

We feel touched by nature, we look around and listen,

As the stars overhead in the night sky shimmer and glisten.

Soaring snow-capped mountain peaks that give us the shivers,

The broad, expressive savannahs where flow meandering rivers.

Those butterflies in the summer garden with hand-painted wings,

The flickering lantern of the firefly whose timid heart sings.

Who needs clues when the whole world before us trembles,

Every leaf and blade of grass into the world of nature assembles.

The dawn, the dusk, what is the most impressive clue I ever saw,

Not one, but so many things leave me spell-bound, feeling awe.

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Copyright © John Herlihy

Saturday 31 May 2025