The Hours Between

Until We Meet Again

The hours in between the seconds freeze a life in coy suspense,
drifting softly heaps of heart and soul across the present tense,
passing in a standstill,
bowing to the better wind,
denying temporal whispers spinning dreams of time and space again…

What of the halted fabric there of which upon the image holds?
Caught tween seconds’ forest plaits along the fence and hint of road.
Expectations,
memories,
race as runners o’er the lea,
leaping rill and brae content in slumber’s memory.

Yet paused in exultation’s drift,
time in purposed parting goes,
unsealing seconds’ casual grasp of all the hours left in tow.
Until the summer’s hush awakes,
before the dark of night sets in,
between the tasking seconds,
until we meet again…