Frank Wilson

Poem of the Month

Changed Times


I sit in a rare Ebisu oasis of muffled noise and a few fellow-loiterers
as yet another Tokyo train rumbles by full to its bulging seams with diligent workers
and extra-eager consumers.

The super-mall has declared Christmas has arrived in early November,
the fir tree in this Buddhist-Shinto mega-metropolis had lights aplenty last evening
and Silent Night played out very loud.

In afternoon bright I am reading of the rise and fall of imperial America
and as crows complain in autumn foliage, focus hard on the Pearl Harbour shock and the revengeful military awakening.

It had all begun less than six weeks before I was born and here I am,
up to my visiting neck in Japanese capitalist globalization, disliking the sprawl
but marvelling at the way it all works.

Far above me another Hawaii-bound super-jet climbs rapidly out of Narita.

Welcomed as spending friends they will selfie til they drop in Kailua and Waikiki

and return proud of their styled hibiscus shirts.

The sun edges behind the superstructure of another new sky-scraper to be
and my half-Japanese grand-daughter makes a totally unexpected frontal attack
and re-captures a piece of my heart.

Story of the Month