by Kevin T McEneaney
When moments appear to pass like minutes,
turn your eyes to the bounty of Nature:
buttercups bending in cool morning breeze,
purple allium standing as lookout
above the fray of grass, dandelion,
and the rabble of dock weed and ragwort;
lanky forsythia lounging in breeze
which seems to seethe from whimsical angles
that enjoy garrulous impertinence.
Our egos are too much attuned to clock
and the fantasy of just who we are—
as delusion that speaks with ignorance
to make us forget who it is we are.
We are not masters of the universe,
but students enthralled to its strange milieu…
