Time

Time

The hot morning air –

All the flowers are wilting

Above brown-dry grass

A butterfly is searching

For drops of dew and nectar

Thin clouds, mere specters,

Dissolving before her eyes

Into the vast sky

Seasonal time won’t comply,

(Unlike our calendar years)

Oak leaves, crisp and sere,

Tumble down without a sound

On the sloping mound

No wind, falling to the ground

As daylight hours grow shorter

It’s the last quarter

Of a life of many years

Ghosts of friends appear,

Ghosts from times that I hold dear,

Ghosts of songs that I still hear,

Ghosts that linger here,

Ghosts from dreams, from other spheres,

Ghosts calm and austere,

Ghosts from streams that disappear,

Ghosts resembling a shy deer,

Ghosts from a frontier,

Ghosts are time and time is near,

Ghosts like distant trees

Seen through a cold howling freeze,

Seen through thickly falling snow

Streetlights barely glow

As a neighbor trudges home

After work is through

There was something he should do,

Something he has forgotten

The note he placed in

His shirt pocket has fallen

Out onto the street

When he paused to stop and greet

An old friend he had not seen

For years, though it seemed

That it was just yesterday

When it was routine

They would meet day after day

Exchanging quips and wordplay

But time eats away

At all our expectations,

Time burns like a fire

And all that is required

Is that she waits patiently

Hoping she will see

In the park where they once walked

His approach, his smile

But she’s surrounded for miles

By an emptiness that’s vile

Blossoms fall like tiles

Torn from the plum trees’ branches

In a bitter wind

He offers incense for his sins

And freshly picked daffodils

The courtyard is still

Something glows in the distance

Passing the roofline,

Like a musician keeping time,

Coursing through the dream-filled air

Moonlight, bright and fair,

Waning from full, like a sigh,

Surrounded by clouds

Hovering, like a thin shroud,

Angels’ wings don’t make a sound