Annoyed by not knowing
Cranky and growing
In impatience and impulsivity
. . . live in the moment . . . but look
before you leap . . . do not worry . . .
be not hasty . . . good things come to those who
Hang onto the hard-tried proverb,
Searching for signs
Like the old woman
Searches for her youthful lover
In a wrinkled old face
Is this the face that, in age,
Is all the more the man she loves?
Or one more feeble façade,
With common flaws mistook for fate,
faith,
fidelity
Plumb the depths of intuition
Weigh the pros and cons
Till plumbs and weights
Have splashed the well to dry –
Cracked clay, baking in the sun.
A black umbrella in an ancient, papery hand
Shadows the fissures, like wrinkles, that web
The once supple, now sandy, sole
Blocking out a sun gone dark
A feeble step away and
The hard yellow earth exposed
To one pregnant, blue drop from above
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