Brian’sPoems

Bleeding

...dripping, blending, combining...

Some evenings
end too late.
Some mornings
begin too early.

Everything
bleeds
into every
other thing.

The wind picks up,
blowing water and dust
around the globe
in all directions.

The puddles overflow,
spilling into creeks,
forming rivers,
feeding the oceans.

Some things sit
a thousand years
resisting the wind
and the rain.

I’m up too early,
gone to bed too late,
spread too thinly
across time and space.