Suggests life, quickeing --- 'you are in the midst of transitions, and
you wished for nothing so much as to change' Rainer Maria Rilke
Towards the City,
trees, innumerable leaves
and fuzzy humans, blurring back.
Perhaps they’re talking to each other,
perhaps uninterested, perhaps alone,
lonely but they’re flying, momentary,
someplace else altogether.
In this half-light, the light is changing slow
- another day of feeling minor fear;
time is up, and so it’s time to go
seeking, finding little things to know
and feel, confabulate, perhaps to hear;
in this half light, the light is changing slow.
Forever probing language, me and you,
so I can be not me - if I could dare;
time is up and now it’s time to go.
I’ll spout my words but who can tell me how
meaning climbs a spiral or a stair?
In this half light, the light is changing slow.
One day, there will be nothing left to do
except to take another breath of air
when time is up and getting time to go.
Humility’s a constant – God I know -
the need to bend a knee is lurking near.
In this half-light, the light is changing slow.
Time is up and now it’s time to go.