Slow time, slow time, or if
the rush is not resented, then
go like a wavering reed and run,
plucked from the shallow bed, into the sun.
Do not! Do not!
Slow time and never give
me cold caves, sinking levels, brief
(fast withering wreath)
Feathering like a ruff
your hair (so ragged at the edges) haloes your face,
and ah, your eyes’ (my darling) brave blue bruised me –
Slow time! Slow time! and we,
bettering the hours,
never in perpetuity, though in the wake.
(from “”Love” Poems For Kathy / Green. Laced. Leaves”)