jaybird

it's amazing how like a little bird she was. her hands waved nervously as she attempted to give an earnest plea or perhaps excuse for something that never quite made itself clear. admitting fault became a cage she avoided yet inhabited nonetheless. two steps forward and one back she fearfully desired the seeds held out to her, and defiantly begged for them. her apologetic tone occasionally pecked when she felt threatened beyond endurance--which was further than most. she impressed her audience with a sense of fragility combined with stubborn indecision. the adroit listener hovered between a desire to protect her and exasperation. in strikingly ironic fashion, her husband lumbered beside her as a perfect ox.

each moment

time is like a snowflake
on your cheek. you have
but a moment to examine
its unique points before it
melts. the moment you
touch the lines on your face,
realise how quickly the years
have turned, another day is
fleeing and you cannot rewind.
when did the lines as you
furrow your brow become
visible when your face is at
rest? you cannot pinpoint that
moment and if your gasping
head broke out of the icy lake
in self-aware shock when your
last hair turned silver it would
still be racing into the never-to-
be-known past as you drown in
the sea of tomorrow. the shops,
the bars, the television programs
beckon with smug arms. you cannot
hold onto today so forget that reality
and immerse yourself in stores forever
fresh, drinks forever young, and shows
forever new. perhaps by the time you
awake with all the unavoidable aches
and pains you will be too drugged to
care. or perhaps you will fight, grasp
the beautiful angst of frozen water, no
two drops alike, and live breathless in
each moment.