Mare
The Old Man And The Heron
November 15, 2021Mare
Written by Katrina Crespin
Time whispers
a voice honeyed jasmine
thick with moss.
She has grown old
against the evening sun,
enveloped in the dust of dusk.
In the reflection
of stagnant pools,
she doesn’t ripple.
Merely notes
the landmarks of her face,
the constancy of her mind.
Time staggers forward.
1 Comment
Interesting use of the word stagger with time.
I think of time as steady, unwavering, and unstoppable in its progression.
But, perhaps it sways from side to side?