First day off in a while
an afternoon in the sun on the porch
a spider joins me in my day old beard
along the fence line nodding heads
of tall grass not a noticeable breeze
till suddenly just now it gives
voice to the big fir next door and
the hillside of redwoods chorus the sigh
strains of conversation carry from down
the block and a tiny sharp explosion normal
enough a return ticket to the people world
glare off the page is too much
spin cycle about over before long
pen abandoned for hanging out the wash
what I had written was that
work creates an overlay of experience
deploring the loss of the past
shallow present’s frightening future
not to mean in a conventional sense
visceral interface with the pace of life
ambiguity and indirection are methods
of consciousness a selfishness of existence
not subject to morality though it
claims to mitigate irreconcilables
at the opportunity of a breeze
pant legs hanging on the line dance
to life for a few brief moments