This is now a waiting time.
All my effort every day is going into the waiting.
Or the holding still in the waiting. Or the being busy in the waiting. Or the restless flicking of fingers or searching the white white white for that one red-splash cardinal.
Or the remembering to breathe in the waiting. Or the looking over my shoulder in the waiting.
Or the flipping through magazine pages in the waiting. Or listening to the snow melt off the roof in a drip drip drip.
I took my watch off in hopes that it would make time foreign. But time is internal and part of my blood. My blood, which quite likely is rushing too quickly from heart to fingers and back again. Like thoughts. Like birds.
These little birds are staving off death every minute, flying back and forth between the feeder full of sunflower seeds and the cold, bare trees.
They’re not waiting. They just are. They’re living in spite of the dying. Getting on with living while the daylight is on their wings.
Take a lesson, right?
I just want
I wanna be here with you
Not bracing for what comes next
I’ve got some new words
I can see sideways
If there’s a limit
It hasn’t found me yet
My friend is an artist
Doesn’t fit in
Lost a front tooth
Can’t keep a job
But the things you make
Are so beautiful
They bring me joy
Don’t you ever stop
The hungry fools
Who rule the world can’t catch us
Surely they can’t ruin everything
I just want
I wanna be here with you…
*”Time and the Flying Snow” is a book of songs by Gordon Bok, which reminds me of another song I want to share with you.