Saturday, July 23, 2011

The Metrics of These Moments

Summer is still with us
Sticking slug-like to the fingers
But the parable is reaching its midpoint
Deceptively
As the pages flutter in the hot breeze
Through the monthly chapters
And almost imperceptivity
The metrics of these moments
Are appearing.

I love them dearly
As they tell their old time tales
But still as they unspool and unwind
They pace this story
And so such glory
Compels a feeble grasp
A finger to mark this place
Then finally a chuckle and a smile.

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