Riding a jerky montage of daily chores
I trundle towards a sunset
waiting to add my fire to its coals.
Hope leaks through day-tight rooms
spilling over tomorrows
that struggle to become today.
And the day packs its bags each evening
to elope with the past.
It's a game time plays well.
And sometimes not so.
But it does leave a clue in the nuance of things
and in all the shades it brings.
That hidden in the folds of a moment
is where life lives
or peeps out from a heart's eye
when it gives.
Out of habit I stop
and let the moment have
a good look at me. I'm not in a hurry.
The sunset can wait.
