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