Monday, August 06, 2012

an afternoon snapshot

the birds are still
the trees are still
the air rests among
the blades of grass

only the clock pours out
in staccato spurts
a litany of tick-tocks
a river of time segments

in which I’m halfway drowned
sometimes just swept away
bullied and cornered by
an illusion called time

the air and grass don’t care
the birds they don’t know this
certainly not the trees
therefore they are in bliss