the moon, the stars: how they must laugh
to see our constant scurrying —
the slow-paced change of outer space
contrasted with our worrying
the instants we are here – then gone –
the wisp of smoke, the briefest breath —
must all seem strange to those who look
but cannot know of life
or death
Good afternoon,
I appreciate you sharing your poem and beautiful pictures. Have a marvelous day!
TAmmy
Well said!