Friday’s Poem: This is Enough

Nothing stays the same and

why should it be so, our lives soon

more or less than what was planned,

the full design rarely finished within sight.

Just this morning I glanced out the window

and there was the absence of you.

I mean there was not you but a trace of gleaming,

an after-image that wanted to linger, a

brightening of the faded platinum of winter

like a bloom fortelling spring through the haze.

How does an essence permeate all of time?

How does sweet perfection transform loss?

I closed my eyes to remember

and all life was returned to me,

this moment finely woven with every other,

a rope of spider’s silk and jute that yet secures me.

If not for then, now would exact another meaning and

if not for abundance, time would be a pauper;

I would be begging, unforgiving, hungry

for more than what I find is needed.

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