A Story Unfolds

My #29 for National Poetry Month

your script calls

for life's scenery to shift

like set changes in a blackout.

So, in two minute increments,

i move, feeling my way in the dark,

searching for traces of light's aura on the green of my days.

.

"cue lights," you call,

as another story piece unfolds.

characters whose scripts

entertain their own agendas,

spout wisdom unabsorbed

before moving offstage in the dark.

i sit in an old chair and watch,

searching for the way back.

my garden's clock is longer,

measured by months,

crowding out the tearful,

leaving space

for the simple;

watering, weeding, pruning.

i find my fingers

reaching for the moments

when, squandering time

and attention,

i turn my sight to my garden,

its needs matching my own

so perfectly.

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2015