The day peeks sideways through a curtain of birdcalls. One thought lifts its head. I hold still as mountains breathe— not rushing, not late. A year ending. A year is a blink. A second can bloom into endless sky, if you are still enough to see it. Or hear it. A bell rings twice inside my bread, ants parade in threads of red. Or is it blue. Now my thoughts dissolve like paint in snow. Even the crow is soft today— what do I know. A year coming. A year is a blink. A second can bloom into endless sky, if you are still enough to see it. There it goes— and here we are. ───── [Lyrics © Mario Caoile]
