There are times when the world stops and you find yourself suspended. Then, all directions are the same. Deliberation has no purpose and the tiniest step would, once again, bring calamity.
SUMMER MORNING
Half a block away,
The incessant barking of a dog,
As perennial as the drone of bees,
Has lost its sense of urgency.
There are no bad clouds on the horizon.
There are none at all.
With such clarity
It is hard to discriminate.
The day crawls along,
Waiting for time to crack.
But with no tension
To wind her springs, she only smiles.
I would yawn
But I might be lost in it.
Instead, I’ll just take water
To the dog that no one hears.