Life’s ending is short,
its beginning unknown
The middle is long,
chasing stone after stone
Memories most vivid,
from decades ago
Feelings now drifting,
like wind driven snow
Our seconds tick off,
as minutes run down
The big picture fades,
tracks left on the ground
Beginning or ending,
the next step unclear
The last cut the deepest,
—to suture or sear
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)