Life’s ending is short,
  its beginning unknown

The middle is long,
  chasing stone after stone

Memories most vivid,
  from decades ago

Feelings now drifting,
  like wind driven snow

Our seconds tick off,
  as minutes run down

The big picture fades,
  tracks left on the ground

Beginning or ending,
  the next step unclear

The last cut the deepest,
—to suture or sear

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)