Leaves fall across a summer
novel notion just read,
unsettled pages.
Influenced by seasons
premature,
sundials shade off the scale
to the twenty fifth hour.
Wrist-watches rotate inward
to slow the leakage of time.
Willow on leather knocks for six
the days that were,
boundries move in dunes
towards like-minded future shores.
Yet, this is the now, the present,
the sixty second second
that only exists a grasshopper life.
Next to come moves in shorter steps,
readies out of close vision
to jump to keep alive
in hidden grass sway reefs.
Tomorrow; begins a split-hairs breath
in the eye’s briefest blink,
unique as crisp autumn weather.
