Uncertainty

The view from the little path in front of our house.

I started writing this a few weeks ago, but it sat, unfinished, in an open tab. I couldn’t figure out what came next, which isn’t surprising since I can’t figure out what’s coming next in general these days.

My husband and I work in tourism. We run an inn, and guests from abroad are a huge part of our business. With things the way they are, we’re just not sure what might happen.

The poem eventually got finished, so there’s one bit of uncertainty taken care of. The rest, however…

Uncertainty

We’re sitting on the deck, my husband and I.
It’s quiet, except for the noise from the street nearby
And the sounds of a toddler—ours—splashing in a basin of water.

The sky is blue, and there’s a slight breeze
Which comes and goes as it rustles the trees.
The sun is warm, a May sun—the best kind.

From the deck, we can see the bay.
Its blue isn’t as vivid as yesterday,
And little whitecaps disturb the water’s surface.

Today we have nothing planned,
Beyond watching the sky, sea and sand.
Our business, like so many others, sits idle.

We wonder what next month will bring,
And next year for that matter—whether anything
Will improve or get worse or just stay the same.

We’re sitting on the deck, my husband and I.
It’s quiet, except for the noise from the street nearby
And the worry whirring through our minds.

Published by helenkamakura

Helen is a Canadian writer and innkeeper based in Kamakura, Japan, where she lives with her Japanese husband and two children. If money became obsolete, she would happily accept peaches, fresh peas, and sun-warmed cherry tomatoes in exchange for her labour.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: