The question was what to do with oneself
During the last days, the few days,
The crushing speed of the approach
Through empty hours. There were errands.
There were ordinary challenges to living,
There were risks to avoid but why avoid
Them when the drop waited behind them?
Standing in the courtyard the sunset before,
Watching the tiny bats wheel through indigo
As daughter talked to herself about art
And nature, interpreting things she'd heard
For herself, making mixed media abstracts
Of construction paper, sharpie, water, dirt,
One could be forgiven for feeling suspended
In the last amber drop of the day. I say,
One could be forgiven but one won't be.
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