Transience

And so we look once more to the horizon

knowing we have left pieces of ourselves

planted along the way, somehow

less and more than we were before.

The spring rains still fall,

but the summer sun, incandescent, approaches.

We wonder how much closer we can get

to the nourishing sun,

to the warmth

that will root our pieces.

Our transient gaze becomes focused, dependent

on that eternal siren and her resplendent promises.

We heed her call, secure the pieces, and begin again.