Fleeting

The humidity had just broken,
perched upon the edge of the porch swing
we stop to celebrate the rotation.

You fix your gaze upon a weed,
soon to be felled by the gardener,
yet able to provide joy
            for this brief moment.

Dilated pupils reveal
    the distance of your thoughts –

Another time, a distended future,

A cool breeze kicks up,
sweat soaked cotton melds into skin.
The shapes of our vessels lays bare
like the maps of our inner beings –
there is little left for us to hide.

I swim in the shapes of your words,
in the hope of futures yet dreamt
and a past soon forgotten.
Time has no meaning here.

Distant planets turn in orbits
around distant stars,
galaxies spin uncontrollably
through the void of space.

And here we are, specks of dust
upon a blue green rock
orbiting the sun.

You,
me,
a single sprig of Indian Paintbrush.

A single instant in a vast ocean,
a moment that shall never be again.