The world not only spins these days
It spirals and tumbles end over end,
flinging predetermined tipping points
into premature disarray
The clocks and measuring sticks of your mind
melt like popsicles in the mouth of the sun
The molasses of complacency chokes its way
into long-abandoned runnels,
Your intuition leaps out of bounds,
over causeways,
in a hurtling gallop toward the unseen and unannounced
Reaching for the reins proves clumsy
This runaway wagon was not engineered
to bow and scrape
in the face of your tender entreaties ~
Letting go begins with hands unfolding
With wings unwrapped and reaching,
Butterflies stream from your knotted belly
Dipping, aswarm, in rampant excitation
Waiting hastens nothing ~
It wedges itself between you and the now,
Squeezing into the very same pockets
you could have chosen to fill
with rose petals and willow
and the sweetness of summer’s final curtsy,
With the ecstatic release of your lover’s long-held breath
mingled with the intake of your own
Digging heels into soft loam
may offer a measure of peace,
Clusters of clay weave through the weight
of one thousand memories
flitting through evaporative sands of time and space
It is safe now to be cradled in the bosom of Creation
To be small, to rest
Empty, content
Say you had it all:
what would you possibly do with it?
words divinely wrought 