Board Game

The early evening closes in upon itself,
satisfied, happy.  The tiny languid
air brushes my skin, the birds
sound tired, lazy, for them too
blazing sun on feathers, flight
of scorch and no water, it
is done, the sun is going.
There is an imperceptible coolness
coming in the air, the heat
will not linger.  I can see
no clock but I hear the tick
of seconds, feel the world
turn.  Silence, nothing moves,
then chatting and twitters, sweet
notes, all in praise of the day
of life in the veins, the hearts
beating.  There are cars on the
road, there is a 'plane in the
sky, bees buzz by, and the
warm air in my nostrils is
fragrant as I watch the grasses wave.
Placed on the grass like a
piece on a board, the great
hand has moved me here:
check.  Check the green
and the blue, the billows
of white coasting by,
your time out of prison.
My move.  Wait.

previous poem

next poem