The fading light of tired days
shadows across the bar
the weight of its settle
lightened by the wait for
someone else who finds
life in random words
put together.
The calendar tells us when
to turn the clock back
an extra hour of sleep comes
and frost returns in light that
sets off a mindless pattern
forgotten by the solstice’s
absence of day time.
The quiet of leaf-less trees
tornado through my ear
listening for the soft tread
of a welcomed footstep
that has not fallen in line
with standard time
nor me.
Where I found life in dusk’s
half-light before
I find that human nature
does not follow Time’s
ability to return to the same
point every year, every day,
every hour.