sometimes
life pounds and pushes
grinds and batters me
its fiercest currents
seeking to break me
into ever smaller pieces
but at night
under a motherly moon
when this ocean’s motion
slows to a purple nudge
you’ll find me face up
a piece of fallen star
still twinkling
still searching
crickets gossip in shadowy corners the moon glows through the clouds the morning starts evil-gray as the past maintains its grip waiting for the present to catch light of a future as the dogs and I re
time steals your hourly balance as often as clouds slip in and out of circulation and since you can’t accumulate or invest minutes or months why underspend days or put away years for some later date?