A POEM A DAY

“I move with the breeze in the trees /
I know that time is elastic” – Fiona Apple, I Want You to Love Me

The world is not ending. It’s still here
for now. I agree though, its end seems
unfathomable—
Separated from the soil,
collecting tidbits about
the coming extinction,
the fate of the Glaciers,
the disappearing honey,
flowers I cannot name,
all the forgotten scents
saying goodbye to the clean air,
leaving behind the trees,
accepting
the reality of
living
without
what’s always
been.
And then I think
Oh,
god bless
earth-made shade,
my body
alive in the cold springs,
my grandma’s voice
when her garden
is in full swing.
These little things.
How much more time
before nothing is the same?