there is peace
in the time between.
from one engagement
to the next there are seconds
to reflect
on the trees
and the breeze
and the thoughts running
a race in your head.
there is time to breathe
and wait
and write.
it’s never a murder of time--
I dislike the phrase “to kill time”--
but rather an embrace of it’s excess.
like hugging
the extra pint of
ice cream
on your father.
gravity the weighing of objects the weight of thoughts unstrung like dust in the moonlight carrying on unbound for chance at matter mattering to matter to be
waded to wait wayward we fly past tall buildings of water of living light we know them feel them are them but do not know them as our own we turn obligatory circles whispers reach us and we learn
amongst the ferns we wicker and scare yearning for the little finger chance to pay us mind our due but overdue is our submission to grace of abundance our invitation to everlasting the times of coming