dream

Inspired by Dave Bonta's Morning Porch

 Each second lasts a week, the toc tic trembles
for a day through the earth. This earth falling
between my fingers. The garden is my hourglass.
Leaves stretch, a flower opens and folds.
A breath. A season.

Peaceful trees, branches meeting, so far away.
Will I ever reach you? I can fly, arms reaching,
sugar glider sails, flying upward, spiralling.
Exhilaration, air and adrenalin, but time still
pins me in place. Intractable dimension.