Minding the time on a deep wind
into the thick haze of a sombre cicada call;
the end days of the season beckon
bridges to be crossed over the
crawling river I have drank in deep.
Let me kneel down by the cool banks
a few more times so I remember the taste
of the nourishing waters that fed me
all through the heat and sweat.
Let me lay under the green leaves
before they fall onto my face,
and before I bring myself to my feet
I will curl my lips onto the dirt
to get a taste of the delightful eyes
that looked into mine but a few times
under the branches.
The sun will be bright
when I come to the muddy ripples
at the end of the water's line,
but do not block the light
as I am basking in its embrace.
I know where the bridge spans
so no need to show me where to walk,
let me sit simply and breathe in the thick air
before it leaves my lungs.
There goes the grass,
swaying in the wind
like dancing hips crooning
to the sound of the time.
Overhead pass the clouds,
somehow always looking
a little like the ones in my memory.
Let me bide my moments,
as I will cross that creaking bridge
when my thoughts no longer
hold my head up to bathe in the sun.