Next: fall 2014

I saw an insect fly by as hell

a bird flew by to stop by a nearby branch

in a haste

only my eye can comprehend

then the wind played with the new shoots

of the birch

the pine

the oak.

As an spectator

a simple bystander

of the things that last longer than I

or what the eye receives

or computes say the scientists

We, say the voices,

return, endlessly

fleeting

is

yore

what now is here

yet is yester

now in the now or in the future

We yet to know.

Lämna ett svar