Drive my car to the end of the street and stop

Under a blue sky waiting to turn left,

Little pregnant minutes fall all around

Busy people whiz by headed west 

And into the future,  their car-bubbles carry them along

It is a rare succulent occurrance, that we ever even dare to pause

Cotton falls and counts the seconds

Languid

O’ Breeze

Blow

(Gentle the way you caress the trees)

Slowly around me in a summer turn

And then I turn, onward headed west

And catch the track to time

Advertisements