ticking

the moment is saturating you
as you swim and crawl sliding out of wet, salty silence
unfurling into voices no longer obscured, comprehending
tender murmurs, the drift of a lullaby, the incredible now of being.

the moment is nestling
in your palm, a soft, flowery-scented intoxicating thing you work
against your cheek, lingering for a while, savoring it with your lips. it is filling you
with the strange taste of first light on the first day after.

the moment is breaking through
the mark of bloodied knees, high school crushes, inevitable
disappointment, victims and survivors, the heartbreak of swollen rivers
endlessly pouring over their banks and down the halls.

the moment is illuminating
radiating out, blazing on the laughter of family arriving,
friends come to share this sip of wine, this mouthful of food.

the moment is releasing
the hot tang of tears, joy trickling, mingling
with heady vows and midnight stars spilling forever across the universe.

the moment is stretching over a floating pond lily, a settling dragonfly
a forest floor of pine needles, droplets clinging to a spider's web,
and wending across silent snowy glades, waves lapping against the shore
a moose's echoing call.

the moment resides on this fleck of dust, this sigh of sand, this leftover breath, this infinite space.

the moment is always.

the moment is you.