Spring

In spite of me
or perhaps
because of
I am mindlessly enthused by
tomorrow
and how the shape of it can bend into
unusual design

I once saw a day
break away from the pack
and sprint towards the future
the rest
howling fowl
and waving their fists
do days have fists?
I know they have legs
because some of them can run forever

Tomorrow is a careful plan
thrown out the window
caught on a gust of wind
and spun around
till it loses perspective
becoming more receptive
to the thought
that all things are random
including you and I.

There is a gleam in my eye
but if you point it out
I will lie about it
avert and convert the idea
into a discussion about
your skin and how it brings
songs to the lips of children
a sub sound
felt rather than heard
you cannot pick out any particular word
more a sensation
than an explanation.


And here comes tomorrow
as promised
as foretold in the bottom of
a cup of tea
the leaves curling into a rune
with no interest in style or considerations

Your call

we can wait here for it

or hold hands and move into
its
embrace

Your fingers
so cool
against my palm.