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| borrowed from http://wanderinglotus.wordpress.com/ |
the crick don't rise, I'll do it.
Barring unforeseen events,
you can count me in.
As far as I know.
I'm planning to,
unless you hear from me.
Pencil it in.
I'll call you to confirm.
But you can take that
to the bank.Sure thing.
It's in my phone.
Yes, absolutely.So
we make our plans and
even what we think is
etched in stone is just
a crudely written diagram,
a stick displacing little
clumps of sand so we can
write a bit, declare our thoughts
and our intentions and then
walk away before the tide
so rudely and completely rearranges
it into a brand new
landscape leaving nothing, no word,
behind. No marks.
No squiggles in the sand, the
sticks have even disappeared.
And whether plans are made or
kept or swept far out to sea,
we move a little forward every day,
on good days, move a little back
on bad, but stay the course,
the track, the road whose end
is definite, whose end is vague.
(c) Ellen Gillette, 2015
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