i step among
    the stone gnomes
    and cement toadstools.
    Footsteps my
    only eloquence.

    Not for tomorrow
    For the frozen moons
    in the stables
    of my imaginary calendar.

    Not for
    yesterday.
    Where the leaves swirl
    In the currents
    Of memories.

    But for
    this present
    moment.
    frolic anonymous
    in my insignificance.

    The fruit of joy
    ripe
    at this moment
    in the silence
    of my simple tongue.

    Echoing out
    into
    the blessing
    of being forgotten
    as moths like time clocks
    keep
    precise the
    pacing of stars.