Time's Passing Poem by RIC BASTASA

a red bird flies low
passing by

i walk alone with nothing
in my hand

lightly i do not carry much
thought

my feet are dusty since it is
the middle of summer

the river flows with a song and
the grasses are growing wildly
with flowers at their tips

the clouds above me drift endlessly
casting shadows on the hills

time travels so fast and it changes
everything
without even touching anything

people pass me by
i am heading towards my fading

compare me to an afternoon
it has no choice but to be with the night again

i am with the night but i am not sleeping
i am on this journey

always going but with nothing definite
on where to go and when to stop.