Reflections

Reflections on a moment wrung

True from the space in-between, the

Space that will be seen in the

Clear cold light of dawn at

The peak of the world.

Flowing, dancing, weaving in the streams

Of chill air as they billow in

High cloud and waters

Running deep, perhaps, or not

At all, rather dank and stagnant,

Who knows?

What will soak and pull

Through, what will be and will be,

What will soar in the heat

Of an evening at the yellow

Street sign chiming and a

Return to someplace else

Who knows?

Who knows?