In The Moment
written by: Karima Hoisan
The wind blows the incense
in puffs, out the door,
rocking the cloud like a cradle in the bough
of a tree.
Sometimes, it sweeps the smell
up like a broom,
scattering the scent all the way
into the living room,
where the faint notes of a piano
begin to float their way back,
mixing with this rare
smokey and timeless perfume.
Is this not the moment to stop and see?
Notes and scents bathed in afternoon’s
golden rod, purple lilac, the smell of cut grass;
We hold our breath.
Is the clock really going to surprise us all
Will a visitor bring us flowers?
Will the cat find her perfect cozy sun spot?
Anything could be the next to see,
to hear, to smell, to say…
while we’re tasting, on the tip of our tongues,
the last hours, of this beguiling end of day.
The wind is a sense teaser, a rain bringer,
a savior of gardens, a gentle whisperer,
a mischievous prankster.
We give it permission
to escort the dark clouds in.
We step aside,
as leaves, raked in a pile begin…
flying solo, twisting low and high
crinkling and winking, spiraling into the breeze,
spreading out back, to the bottoms of the trees
they were just raked this morning.
While back indoors,
Chopin’s arpeggios, and trills carried by the breeze,
coax joss sticks to undulate,
their tails and plumes.
The yellow-purple vapors, are caught in the
puffs and gusts… and then, the first raindrops.
They begin to fall and salt and pepper our faces,
as we sit on the step, hypnotized in awe, frozen in the moment…
as if God had just taken our picture.
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