More words. Sometimes I would like to hear clear directives. Of course, being me, I might not listen then.
You’re not done yet
What odd words to hear
Driving to therapy
Amongst changing trees
Green to gold
Set against blue cloudless sky.
You’re not done yet.
Wouldn’t this apply
To everyone
And everything
Living
Breathing?
Yet somehow
This is different.
Of course it applies
To everything
Living and breathing.
It also applies to me
Alone.
The words seem written
In the spaces
Between tree branches,
In the lines between
The telephone wires,
Punctuated by birds
Lined up
Ready to take flight
South.
You’re
not done yet.
No comments:
Post a Comment