mail order doesn’t take 4-6 weeks anymore 

but the wait feels different 

when you know how time can be stretched 

.

across rainy days 

just listening to the drops 

through fields of lavender 

in no hurry 

watching the clock 

when cookies are in the oven

waking to find you’re way older 

than you thought you’d ever be

. 

sometimes you realize you’re not waiting 

but passing the time 

because it’s the same as it ever was

grasping hands in the night 

without knowing what tomorrow holds

without knowing the weather 

without saying a word

.

letting the dreams we hold

carry us to morning 

watching the tree in the corner 

stand through summer rain

turning greener and darker 

knowing it’s a matter of time 

before color fades, leaves fall

and clouds cover the moon 

all becoming a blue-grey 

but right now it’s afternoon

people are laughing 

dodging the drops 

I watch a town bustle through lunch

stories through the window 

the rain cool on hot pavement 

August is ready to sleep 

summer is slow and heavy green 

making planning hard

and daydreaming fuzzy

.

my body is healing 

and that too is slow 

making dancing a memory 

.

the clock drags its hands 

as sun swallows sky

I try to stay rooted 

.

I hum without song

a sort of blue-like sky

making days pass gently 

the air was heavy like a Carolina bay in July

there was a sweetness that pushed limits, 

like magnolias in the night at last bloom

.

sounds of road equipment 

were North Philly and smells of industry 

were Rittenhouse Square homeless 

.

my hair blew across my face 

with a  whiff of highland perfume 

and a tinge of woodsmoke 

.

a train whistle heralded another century 

when the town had lochs

and there was growth on the river  

.

my brightly painted toes were a whimsy

from a decade of primal excess 

and each step felt as good as breathing 

.

the town clock chimed, same now as then

which meant time was the same 

meaning little when you don’t pay attention