{I remember the
way the light
danced across
your eyes in the
sunlight and
you lifted your
face in laughter.}
I probably gave you
more than if you
portioned everything
as in a kitchen
where all the
timers sound at once.
We both know I
never keep pace
with systems and
yes — I
removed the battery
of that old clock
because the ticking
dared to
taunt me.
I speak of hearing
colors, of themes
found in paintings,
the movement
of music
toward a shoreline
or receding
from a life.
The stretching
expressions of
shadows flickering
through a
tree whose shade
was ample
last summer
but now sits sparse.
Are you parched?
Do you find
refreshment by
the greedy grab
of achievement
or in a momentary
embrace of
I am untroubled.
I am unafraid.
I stand at the
intersect of light
and movement,
awaiting a
shift in the