Quick sheets and
     threads of tomorrow
     under my fingers
          some smooth and soft
          some coarse and cutting

I'm stumbling on surprises
     of sudden silence

     yesterday is always underfoot
     and too slippery to stand upon

So I sit
     myself down here

To wander in small spaces
To wonder in inky bits
To one day in a series
     of discontinuities
     of land receding
     of time curling up
     of days
     with crispy burned edges
     and quickly cooling tea
     for one



Copyright@2019 Dennis Willis