After Hours

I used to love the world but now that you are gone

I have learned to love the hours.

I love the hours that sit tall on park benches

and turn themselves into humans

just to see what they are. Or the hours

that pedal bicycles along lake trails.

Somehow they make do without feet.

I love the hours that sit on roofs drinking iced tea.

Sometimes they drop like black-and-white cows.

The sidewalk puddles shiver from their fall.

I love the hours that sleep on soft cushions.

Waking, no one can tell how long they have been gone.

Skip to toolbar