I couldn’t capture it before my commute,
as the morning’s minutes ticked me to late;
I wanted to bundle up the leftovers
from a few years ago, some squandered
or unwanted from another day, but time
cannot be kept like a savings account.
It swept me past noon, and as so many
days before, I forgot to eat, or chose
not to eat, coffee my only lunch,
but it is the moments I crave, a little breeze
under the limbs of a favorite tree, sitting
on a smooth rock, and time stops, for just
the littlest bit, and I can hear God.
—C.L. Fisher, August 2020
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Poetic Meanderings 