This Waning World

If you would only stop long enough to hear

the great whooshing of your life in your ears

You would be graced with the Daliesque sight

of the river birches stretching their legs

knees wobbling like champion Charleston dancers

Geese rowing in lines across the twilight sky

while the coxswain calls to keep them in sync

Upside down seagull wings flapping towards the surface

of the liquid mercury etched with black silhouettes

that could be boats or unknown behemoths of the deep

While across the bay the reflections of three orange lights

flicker like miniature novas in the haze of the humid night

Tiny droplets of storm suspended in mid air

See how the currents ferry away

the last sweet notes of the dying day

If you would only stop and look

you would fall in love with this waning world