time, less

Seven trees: three oaks and four douglas firs
on a point of dried grass and black, ice-smoothed
rock overlooking the Gorge inlet
just the right distance away for aesthetic framing
a 4 second walk if I cared to do so
instead I sit there through days
watching how the sun lights up the interior foliage
in the afternoon versus the glint off the water in the morning
and the difference December-green grass
and grey skies makes
my butt becomes wet and then dries again
some frost and a little snow
Shrieking traffic on the road behind me
until I’m back to where I started
toss out the rest of my coffee and,
overcaffeinated,
walk the dog back home
and try to recount the year past

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