We march forward one foot at a time,
plodding towards the line that separates
present from past tense,
at times feeling the cold rain sluicing
down your back beneath your collar,
until a wet nose nuzzles your arm
and licks your hand,
and in that moment you feel
the glimmer of gratitude
knowing you live in the now
instead of the then.


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *