Moments of the past do not last
days kicked into the long grass
A warm early-summer’s day
gold petals bloom today.

stormy-autumn comes
later, flurries of snow melt in the air
into a body without  heat

Frozen snow above
tumbling-heaps of red, gold, brown
used to crisp-crackle underfoot
like old ghosts who lose their threads,

Druggies:  their fragile, skin
eyes like slits
echo the savage-silent-dead
memories-lost, nights storm-tossed inside a head .

Dust-motes float,
like gossamer threads,
webs
soon, be dead.

stones glitter in the rain
words you  thought, but never said,
misrule-is-now-misled,
the very eye of the storm
the vortex: 
a moment of calm,

Old-ghosts finally-fled,
into the very heart of life
gripped by chapped, red-raw hands
above lost-time’s silent beating drum.