as I sit,
back to the sun
feeling the warm horizontal brush of dawn
ride slowly up exposed vertebrae
chance to be useful
to myself, as well as others.
@Nick Zegarac 2008 (all rights reserved).
This great passing cavalcade of time,
rarified by the moment,
as melting snowdrops,
or the last frozen bits of water
distilling into my cocktail.
Inebriating, that is…
until the empty bottom of the glass,
stares back with panged remnant juices,
still clinging about the rim,
as if, to say – ‘this, is not for you’.