attente

don't know when it happened exactly

~ which hour of which day ~

the palatable exubruance & thirst for sun 

gave way 

to a lament for the moon

my movement
my being 

my hours 

spent 

in 

quiet unruckus'd preparation
for 

ducks-in-a-row clarity 

corners cleaned of cobwebs 

piles of life linear with logic 

dust swept devotedly 

from the totem objects of my accumulation 

flannel smooth
moonlight quickening 

tassels trimmed & pressed 

set free from lingering gypsy dreams

as if

should the wind be just right from that place of sun 

well then ... 

everything will be

as if 

I was never here 

or maybe 

my departure will come with
no burden
no adjustment 

or maybe 

I am just merely passing thru
pausing here

as if
waiting

for 

just the right 

wind