Recording time

I don’t see distances slipping and sliding through time

month by month it increases, thunderheads in the sky

sun tinged.

There is something about the bigness of our souls now,

the way lovers embrace or knots are tied,

or how fish cannot live without the ocean, or

deeply rooted trees

the mystery of long dead stars shining in the night sky–

I walk on. Always east, always towards the rising sun,

bending, sweeping shining, rippling prairie grasses witness metamorphosis.

God is in every one of them, hairs on the head of earth, knowing them all, knowing each hawk perching on telephone poles, each flight, each plummet

where the roots of each rainbow lay in span of years

still I see that quiet shy boy, wearing maturity like an oversized shirt, speaking of future-dreams, my whole life in your eyes we coasted on years sometimes rudderless,

adrift on seas of time and consequence

love wrote us, writes us still


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