Week 2 of Furlough Begins

Time and its relativity are clear now.

The animals and I keep a same schedule, and like them,

I believe I still matter. Hours are meaningful

Although they carry no cash.

 

Instead of colleagues, I converse with a cold front.

Clouds dash by at a pace I

Don’t know. Underneath, fears lap like

a flooding creek. I let them go;

tossing pieces of grass with gravity.

 

Time is stretched by gratitude.

I no longer rush. Let’s throw a ball

for the dog. I choose my adventures and

look up when I like.

There is space to expand and contract. To be.

We are now our own universe.

 

Tomorrow, a concept, just out of reach.

Finally (the only truth)

Finally~
you say as night settles
for the progress of the day.

as soon as you’re born

 you die a little
  every day, with every scraped knee
   and every time
    someone disappoints you
     or you break another heart.

all the blood of daily pin pricks pile like so many dried leaves
tossed by a breezy blood orange moon with eyes like a wise old owl.

Finally, you say.

Wipe a finger
across a dusty bookshelf full of old photographs
to feel the only truth
known to owls, and moons.