Days are long, but
Years are short.
Or so they say

That all elusive “they”
Who receives entirely
too much credit in our
passing days and years

I want to walk,
no, meander,
down a dirt path

Trees on both sides
Transformed into
a shady canopy

Listening to the breeze
Listening to the birds

Stopping only for a
Single ray of sunlight
Peeking through the leaves

To paint a picture
in the dirt just for me
No thought of days,
years, maps, or lists

Only the temporary
Becoming the eternal

I wrote this poem in a recent in-person poetry circle. Listening, reflecting, and writing with this group was a breath of fresh air. Highly recommend! 💛