This Is A Moment ( that once was a memory )
The ground begins to refuse the rain
while the sky sadly promises more.
Restless clouds mill about in valleys -
and drift up against hillsides
before slowly moving upward
to scale their earthen dam.
They spill over forested ridges
as if needing to feel the other side.
It couldn’t have been yesterday
when we shared this gathering of gray –
for the naked fuzz of branches
finding modesty beneath misted veil,
are now flush with summer’s wooing -
their green nearly black with rain.
“These Are The Moments”, is
accompanied by the screak of wipers
as they stutter noisily across the glass.
Silencing the discordant intruder, I smile,
realising – This
is one of the moments.
Raindrops scattering tiny prisms
lend a surrealness to the scene
as the clear drops mottle the clouds.
Distance becomes less a matter of judgment
than of instinct, time is bent by the music,
and memory becomes slanted by desire.
I think of you in your green winter,
choosing whether you would prefer
to sit on white or black sand when you
admire a south pacific view which has
inspired words you give to lighthouses,
and a love of home as great as my own.
When the time has come for season’s change
and for trees to again stand naked in the rain,
I will return to this place and think of you -
judging distance with a sailor's eyes , while
taking your ocean's pulse in measured tides.
Even as time changes moments into memories,
our times together will forever turn to moments.
There is society where none intrudes, by the deep sea, and music in its roar.