forcing the birds into trees,
the butterflies beneath leaves.
I stand at the open window,
listening for the cool silence
between raindrops.
I begin to wonder
about time machines,
about being fully absorbed into the future:
The full view of a sunset
from our porch chairs,
a cat resting at our feet.
Faces aged, a hand
holding a hand.
And the wind
comes down from flowered hills,
filling the home with fragrances.
Everything is golden orange
like a softly glowing jewel.
I blink and turn from the window.
Another routine day begins.
The echoes of my heartbeat
will mingle with the rain.
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