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.
Man in boat, alone with book,
Sighs mightily. Looks skyward.
Mallards, in pairs, sail close,
Circling for bread, expectant.
Clouds above, seek resolve, then
Resoundingly, give their load a rest.
Humble water leaps, so tickled, and
Time, meanwhile, whispers advice to
Cattails: souls who look, circle, seek
Should rest, content with the rustling.
the me in gasoline on water is a rainbow
of potential sliding around, skimming the tops, spreading then
unraveling with every
exhale of the Bay
shape shifting like a scream
my perplexed smirk distorted then tortured
and mad in the only possible way
the slick bird above me
purple to orange to blue to barely discernible shine –
oh shine on, you gull, shine on
free from such thin and colorful prisons as this.
Bobbing quiet in a
Melted crayon sea I am
Floating far away.