Run your finger on the shelf and you may find
It’s time to clear out your cluttered mind
Like a clock – days, weeks, months – measured time.
Air filled with sparkles when sunlight shines.
Observe space in solid form – a universe, stars and planets.
Gone today, here tomorrow, dust to dust, ashes to ashes.
Take charge, stretch and clean
But from a sterile life what can be seen?
“it always looks worse through a window”
“no bad weather, just bad clothing”
Would sitting in be such a sin, though,
Instead of in this storm a roving.
The less than silent leaking jacket
The swooshing, pounding, tiresome racket,
And mist so pretty on a meadow
But on my foggy glasses less so
The promise of abundant green
Mother nature truly mocks
As mushrooms sprout within my socks
My muddy boots, her glowing sheen.
Release me from the soggy prison
Of a tidy aphorism.