Believing in an afterlife
but sometimes living
like it wasn’t happening today,
like it doesn’t matter tomorrow.
Does it change
the way I treat
my friends and family,
the people I say I love?
What about the hundreds
of strangers passing
in and out of my gravitational orbit,
as we ripple through each other’s lives–
Do we fluctuate ever so slightly
as we swing around each other?
My bicycle races down endless highways,
rain showers burst through the humidity.
Two wheels dance with rising mist,
fading sunbeams, flashing fireflies.
10,000 farms fade into the dusk
while distant cities pine for enlightenment.
The rustle of winter wheat; and iris, peonies,
bluebells anticipate onrushing summer.
Frank C Modica is a retired teacher who taught children with special needs for over 34 years. Frank’s writing is animated by interests in history, geography, and sociology. His work has appeared in Slab, Heyday, Cacti Fur, Black Heart Magazine, The Tishman Review, Crab Fat Literary Magazine, and FewerThan500.