For The Time Being

this world is large enough 

to hold many short-lived

things at once:

ephemeral friendships

back to back,

ephemeral emotions

arriving and going,

ephemeral spring flowers

staining the dark earth red,

yellow, white, and green.

If you lie down long enough

beneath a tent of budding

tree limbs talking with the wind,

twigs in your hair,

all of them eventually

begin to return to you.