Chain of Longing

"He is no fugitive--escaped, escaping."

He's the weakest link in the chain
Of longing. He's happy today.
He's surrounded by the gentle
Observation of familiars.

What wondrous new thing could be done
Hardly troubles him anymore.
He could repeat a few card tricks
With his chamois-soft pocket deck.

He could settle in the chaise lounge
On the covered porch and scribble
A little, peruse a little,
Congratulate himself on not

Caring or complaining about
The bustling busyness of ants
That march alongside and chide him.
Laziness and calm are heavens

That the chain of seekers covet
And, by coveting, must forfeit.
The unscrolling of the soft work
Trailing words is clouds' play today.