Step
outside into
a bright cloud,
and meet a world
constructed of dust and light
as if entering someone else’s dream.
Perhaps you think it is.
But still you drive
and shapes create
themselves in
mist.
Everything
becomes new
when it comes
to the place where
the past and future connect,
like two storms colliding until they
turn into a Wednesday eye.
Breath easy this morning.
Sometimes even time
must remake
itself.
Written in the 2000s.
freestyle, non-rhyming, very short, nature, musings
