[untitled] Poem by Maria Schmitt

Friends scattered across the courtyard
like transitory shadows
now here
now there
but where
can I find a refuge when I want one
or a gathering when I'm lonely
or just a smile when
the blowing leaves get to be too much?
Bench of wood or composite plastic nonsense
or a tree,
the grass underneath warms slowly
in the sun
that is darting
in and out
quiet and loud
hush, don't make a sound.
Wait for the song to finish
before you speak
because this is the best part -
now past.
Wasn't it great?
The time is 1 2 3...
no longer counting but a ticker
time falling down and down
endlessly
like a leaf spiraling,
destined,
toward the ground.