Time

Time is nothing but a thimble full
fleeing
like the wild birds on flight
toward their continued existence.
Meanings - grounded
cornered in some obscurity, between
the substance of life
and the mouth of the last fish left gaping wide
surrendering itself to death
suckered by
the trappings of man’s calculating
roughshod hands.

I need a moment – maybe two
or more.
Let me just sit here, soaking up the view
gathering -
over the old bones washed ashore, growing
smaller, and smaller with the passing
of each day