It's the nature of time
Passing through us
That brings the hunger for all things green
Drives our dream-drenched life
Infused with all its glimmering and grace
To the edge, makes us grow
Anxious to tear out something timeless
From our transient babble and whirl
And revel in our routine
Of glistening twilight
Divining the way for us to breathe
Some ether as if the air itself were valium
Warm and steady as a dream
Of those long summer days
We whisper the word burn and turn
To ash, bent by wintry fever
That clings like ice, like fire
Waiting for the spring's sap green and golden
To hold us all green and living
To see the sun rise
And set all the sun long
And remain spellbound.
*In Medias Res is Latin for "into the middle of things."
Michael Hillmer
Copyright © 2003 |
