sweet excess

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.

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