Time

pearly morning mist
the crew of eight rows as one
curling flat water
–
bulrushes-
a passing wake
laps the shore

summer in decline
the first fragments of autumn
strewn across my lawn
–
open windows-
under my blanket
flannel sheets

quietly aging-
under the stairs, a box of
curling photographs
–
wind blown leaves-
walking slowly
hand in hand

exploring the world
starting with the common ground
found beneath my feet
–
fading sunlight-
stone steps
along my path

faded love letters
the pages of our marriage
dog-eared and wrinkled
–
mulled cider-
clothes fresh
from the dryer

living day by day
striving to open my mind
and keep my mouth shut
–
nests amid the rafters-
prayer bells ring
in the rain

hoping against hope
to stem the incoming tide
and still it rises
–
august-
forsaken
by the sun

thick solemn silence
dozens of flag draped coffins
lining the tarmac
–
echoes of summer-
shell casings
in a folded flag

cut from the same cloth
the two of us holding fast
lest it unravel
–
sheep shearing-
lost in thought
or so it seems

robins flying south
I’m left stranded alone with
my desperation
–
evening dew-
california poppies
closed for the night