They say to put your money where your mouth is.
I agree.
And there’s more.
So much to touch, to hear, smell and see.
But my senses are trapped, here all alone,
with this phone and teevee.
I’m outraged, I’m worried.
Concern burns my brain.
Pain pervades a world gone insane.
I gawk and squawk at things that shock on other people’s block.
Is any of this real? I can’t feel the news.
So what if I choose to only invest where I nest?
Put my feet on my street and ignore the wars and scores and scars and far fears that feel near and rarely appear.
But I can’t bury my head in the sand.
So what does that mean for the land where I stand?
Care only for this place and these people and love it.
Engaging the world, or my corner of it?
The anonymous local shirk.
That’s the work.
Cincibility 