measured moments by
rain and the width of ripples in the stream
by the sound of porch chimes
in the pre-storm wind
by the length of a kiss
or the length of a track on a playlist
by the strength of my back
when shoveling snow
i am now the age of my professor friend
when he taught me Heraclitus and Parmenides
i am contemplating running again
he has acquired the third leg
of the sphinx’s riddle
it’s easy to measure sand or
to segment into equal pieces
the clock face to the world’s turning by degrees
but control
no
you may as well wrap your arms around trees
and wait for them to embrace you
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