Delicate Detour

dahlia

 

I pause

mid-stride,

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.

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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,

counting moments,

inspecting each,

 letting them drop

like seed to soil,

to reap a full harvest

of

Now.