Delicate Detour



I pause


my to-do list caught

in your delicate detour,

fly to your whimsical web.

Task and master flounder,

round ruffled maze-twists;

forgetfulness steals soft

in lemon-drop swirls.

Weeds will wait.

Urgency evaporates

amidst petalled purity;

here is Now,

here is life alive,

painted to mimic sunshine,

so I pause.

Harvest of Now

Precarious precipice, this –

one foot in land of the living,

the other in the grave.

What to do,

when death’s throat opens wide?

Soak in sunshine,

breathe with virgin lungs;

count each second

on your knees.

Stop the clock with grateful gaze,

arrest time’s march

by counting,


counting moments,

inspecting each,

 letting them drop

like seed to soil,

to reap a full harvest