on my knees
wiping muddy paw prints
from the kitchen tiles
sun spots hinting spring
my parents another day older

Change. Life is just whizzing along; it waits for no one, no thing, and no plan of mine. I love seeing the changing light, the sun moving closer to the earth, the days growing longer, the golden tones returning--but, at the same time, there is a sadness. As time moves on ahead things are left behind--I still don't have a job or a sense of where I belong, my days are never productive enough, my parents seem older and more frail with each passing day, my kids are struggling with jobs and bills and school loans, and there seems nothing certain, nothing for me to wrap my heart around, except the black mud on the cool white tiles, the dog's big happy waggle, the way I feel in the afternoon winter light. Nothing but the moment. Nothing but the words. This is all there is to keep me from unraveling.