The Philosophy of Waiting
Catch the moon in a jar.
The jay carries in its feather sky, a cloud, and
It is a tiger.
Children cartwheel in the street.
Old women shuffle behind their tiny dogs.
Top-heavy hydrangeas thirst for light,
writhing Medusas among stones.
They cannot decide what color to be,
so they alternate.
We can learn from them.
Can you recall the scent of herbs in winter?
Life is interstitial.
Don’t stub your toe.
---by Second Story Window's blog author