Small atoms tremble
with the sound of Clair d’Lune,
the poems of Neruda,
the smile of my woman
a love with wonder.
The petals of a white cherry tree
falling like rain, Jackie said,
reaching for its arms.
Tides flooding rocks
whose stare embraces them,
like myself watching tides go out.
How many electrons
are there with names?
Shadows,
falling in love with each other?
Minutes that want to stay
and disappear into silence?
Wings looking for souls
that want to fly?
A falcon just dove past my window
as I scattered down my words,
all the happening in a now
and yesterday’s part of now,
none of it apocryphal,
all of it happening,
helplessly, hopefully,
to be continued
or succumb,
when I go outside and wave,
or be waved at.