Drawing Time

The hours, long

melt away in the evening

canvas, leaving a sketch

to be drawn upon

tweaked and rearranged.

Outside the sprinklers

have begun their work

and time becomes defined.

He knows another moment

has become many thoughts

well into the autumn sky.

One wonders when those inklings

the patterns we strive,

we live our universe by,

will ever cease in earnest

to draw time,

away from one’s capacity.

He wallows feeling the night chill

hopes again that some aspect of the waiting

will eventually find reason,

help him welcome his decline.