“Life is a shapeless dice.
Each face, a breathing story
Waiting to be told, to be lived;
Or waiting to shrivel and die.”
fragrances on lavender and daffodils,
carnations of the Ugili tree and the rosemary,
spell different tales for bees, birds, and butterflies,
& tell another to rodents, deer, and man.
—stories of life;
her dynamics and impermanence.
(it does not wait for you to call the neighbors)
grandmother threw my eyes into troughs in her wrinkles
to swim in the deep, endless sea of life;
fishes of pain, chain, and gain,
love, loss, cross, and roses swarm carelessly
“this is life,” she said
“you can experience, learn …and choose”
(she means I could live before the night steal my breath)
do not wait to be old,
live, before the shriveling appears.