Wednesday, April 28, 2010

The Moment

So I am a hydrangea now

Hanging heavy with my own petals

My voice is the eye-widening rush

Of rain beneath the streets

Streaming under the drains

Petals falling on the concrete gradually

Relinquish their lilacs for yellows and browns

To be stepped on in the downpour.

So I am watching that squirrel now

Crossing the line

As it does from time to time

I have taken it to bear good tidings

Because its presence has never

Brought me sorrow.

And, do I wonder if I know myself?

I chiefly wonder if I

Know myself

I find in truth that I can

Only know

In the gasping climax of

The Moment

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