Happy Hours

by John E. Simonds

We run through a world of recovering people,
proud of their problems
but unclear they’re over.

Their lives, like our jogging, one step at a time,
in parks by the sea
where the same sunset works.

If we’re breathing right as we train at dusk,
we can hear sharing
of time’s jointly-held glow.

Echoing after-effects provide
resonant comfort tones
over sundown coffee.

Gentle throat-clearing baritones
say habits have left
them to mellow alone…

At least for today, of course.
Breeze from the park shore
stirs the overhead leaves

of their coco palm shade
and banyan tree vines
where we run without noise.

Thirsts unrequited,
some hungers have passed,
burnt black as spoon bottoms.

Edging return
to circulation,
unfurled dollars showing,

residues
of recognition,
rumbling in hoarse catarrhs.

Gentle
sounds of welcome greet
those in circled beach chairs.

Now
managed obsessions
come forth to reminisce

in whispers of experience at oceanside.
a late sun flashing
light on darkened waters.

John E. Simonds, 78, of Aina Haina, is a retired Honolulu daily newspaper editor who has lived in Hawai’i for 38 years and previously was a reporter for newspapers from Washington D.C. and other mainland cities. A Bowdoin College graduate, he has been writing verse since the 1970s, is the author of Waves from a Time-Zoned Brain (AuthorHouse 2009) and recently has had poems published in Bamboo Ridge and New Millennium Writings.