The only people who position themselves to watch
A view all day are pensioners and bosses.
The boss in his 20 storey tower,
His swivel chair and plate glass.
The old man on the sagging verandah.
They both sit. They both stare.
How far can your stare take you from your cares?
Whether it be the city traffic,
The desert sand, or the blank ocean,
The watchers wait to see change beyond their causing.
It’s the view’s stretch that matters.
The boss wants to be surprised
Away from the routine of his day,
From the predictable exercise of power,
The way his people slide away.
Today it’s maybe a wave’s rubbery slope,
The whale’s tail folding then gone,
Like the flap of a damp envelope.
The pensioner sees through his telescope
Straddle carriers loading container ships,
And the eagle circling its kill as twilight slips.
He waits and watches through cloudy eyes
For what will come from far skies, soon.
He looks because he doesn’t want surprise.
He says that’s all he hopes.