I catch the sunrise unaware,
to weave the daylight without care,
and chase the sunset if I dare.
The Weeded Path
Tall grass collapsed under its own weight, twisted by wind and rain into giant whorls like cowlicks. Only weeds – thistle,dandelion, purple vetch – stand tall. I crush them with a careful boot placed against their sturdy stems to bend and break.
Behind me tiny orange butterflies flutter and recover, they alight scant moments after my passing. A path forged, until grass and weeds rise again to fill the gaps and obscure the footprints of my journey into sunset. I leave white sap bleeding in my wake.
Our lives are the instruments we play,
on strings drawn taut between sunrise and sunset.