The fleeting things of
this world
are its beauty,
a flower, a sunny day
a shared moment
between friends
A young boy or girl
with little time
to be young
a late snow
in the early spring
That time
my mother smiled
at me
for no reason
‘cept we were beings
meeting for the first time
in this world
That time
I realized
my old man
wasn’t as dumb
as he seemed
Unexpectedly meeting
on a rare visit
to an out of the way
place
at a late hour, her
That brief eternity
when all was right
with the world
and God was a real
presence
to a small boy
Leaves
caught in the act
of mock creation
as they
fly in full
to shape the world
That almost bond
created
by shared insights
with someone
who feels the same
The poem
that comes
and writes itself
and changes for a
moment
a life
And life
most fleeting perhaps
And life
the very shape perhaps
of the question
And life
perhaps
the very answer.