Under The Yellow Moon

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We pause but for a while
To part the blinds
Observe
the passing of our time
Sitting in the vestibule of life
Enjoying memories of evening tides
That slide shadowless and windless quiet
In sunset moonlit reds
Ochres teeming bright
On land baked dry and weather worn
Waiting expectantly
Patiently
for dusty storms
And night
When birds of chance take flight
Leaving behind their calling cards
Tickets perhaps to happier rides
Or devices that blow into deadly shards
As characters stare at the wispy blur
Stage left a cloud of misty words
Their fate described and circumscribed
A scene about to shift
A hand about to hesitate
Pull back or lift
No time and all the time
In but one moment
End or start
Composure frozen dream
Distilled to art.