have to cling
to spontaneity;
improvisation
is easier
than it looks.
Witness
how the buckthorn slings
its tendrils through the garden rocks.
Every inch,
every moment
is a trim, haiku-like stanza
about how
boundaries, memory,
money, love, family—
beauty, truth,
and even death—all
shall one day come
to fail us,
not just suddenly,
but thrillingly.
