12 o'clock sits cross-legged

at noon

6 o'clock is heavy with stomachs

The midnight Moon bathes

in darkness

The Earth hums

At the edge of myself

I'm approached by a stray thought

I have no words for it,

so I surround it with interjections

that dance like St. Elmo's fire

I pick up an acorn;

reach into a thousand years

I'm quite at peace

with being a temporary life form

- for now