We weave our way into this season of light,
marigold days with sun gracefully settling
before we are ready
to let go the warmth of moments.
Cut-out thoughts like paper dolls dancing
upon dying leaves left underfoot,
the scent once broken spills into the mind
stirring remembrance like bread dough in a bowl,
rising higher with the warmth found.
Eyes closed against the glare of forward motion,
we turn round and spin in the element of this second,
27 minutes past the hour and falling behind
yet unaware, somewhere within
life’s clock that drives us hard
like demons close behind
chasing us into the chaos,
if we but stop and stand strong in thought,
our conviction is thus,
relishing this everything
as another minute passes
and 32 left before we roam.
With a light step I shall move
not pressed onward, but lost in this very second,
inhaling the scent as the day unfolds around me
and grey skies block the mighty bulb above,
switch turned off for now
but knowing someone will come along
and turn it back on once more.
I will cast my silhouette against the morning sky,
giving praise for all in my grasp
and blessings for each day that shall come
I dance in the universe unbound.