Hiatus

Travelling backwards on the 10:54

the past blurs in sideview

stretching ahead, growing distant

True passing.

What’s yet to come hides behind,

emerging into low sun cutting

winter boughs. Life stirs within.

And being blind to the future,

beholden to anticipation

alone, without clear sight

of a past speeding by

too fast to revisit,

doesn’t really matter.

None of it matters.

There is now.

~ Sandie Zand, February 2019