Quiet Turning


Inside the lapse
I can feel the quiet turning.
The mesh of silent gears,
The mute screams of time bound cells
Caught in their finite lives,
Bent to their tasks, year after year.

I can feel the quiet turning
In the stems of drowsy leaves,
As they choose their colors
And drift off to dream,
Their chlorophyl pride
Replaced with brittle dementia smiles.

I can feel the quiet turning
As the sun is pulled to sea.
Like a mime belting out a lullaby,
Each color of dusk screaming,
Sliding unheard toward black,
As each blanket of cloud coddles the moon