Winter Bird

time. no time. more time. out of time

i want you now, tomorrow, and wednesday too

to be presentawakeawareinloveinandoutbyyourselfbymyself now and forever

i watch, and the summer bird flies above and away as the first maple leaves blush pink and red and fall

soon it will be september, october, november, december. 50. soon it will be 50

i watch the fall leaves cover the ground as the winter bird flies above. where will it go? i don't know

soon it will be january, february, march, april. 50 will be just a number. no need to count.

i hold to the idea of control as the seasons wash over me and the idea of control melts away. it is not real, i tell myself

these twenty odd years holding the pebble of ice inside of the heart. it has to melt

i see the summer bird coming back… i breathe… i see the winter bird returning in its own time

who knew? if you set it free…