You are not the mountain
Or the trail
But you footprint cliff face
With such pride
Like Jesus of three minutes
Before you’re wind washed away
As dandelion pod
Make no mistake
The mountain will forget you
And the rocks you threw will roll back in to place
Remember
In this cavern
You are the echo

an island bypassed
on foot we continue on
mud betwixt our toes

there it goes

That Moment

The one marked with a

big red circle

on the family calendar

is over.

It came and went

And all that

Anticipation

Anxiety

Excitement

fizzles out

Leaving behind

echoes of silence

accentuated by the sound of

One pair of lungs

Maintaining

One heart beating on,

For some reason

so much louder than

two.

As we sit down and wonder

Where all that time went

That we’d been counting down

Months that fell apart

into days that clicked down to

seconds

That dragged

-like puppy claws on a shag rug

When it’s time for the vet-

The lead up is always eternal

but the moment is already passed.

 

the lost boys danced,
danced with their feet.
beat a path in the dirt
they needed no music
only the dull thud
of naked feet on bare soil.
their pitter patter
became thunder
as boys turned to men
round and round
they spun in wide circles
dancing for the harvest
for the gods
their thunder
became a pitter patter
as men grow old
and soon silence followed.