I don’t know if I am a practical person.
I don’t obsess over the uses of a watch.
It’s enough that it tick and the hands
move forward, even if I don’t.
When my dog paces in front of the door
I know I must walk him. When he paws
my lap, I must feed him. He knows himself.
Today, I took him to the beach and
let him romp the shore, content like him,
to not know why the tides moves forward.
The tides are tireless and they go up and down
endlessly with a purpose I’m not privy to.
My winding down bones know to let things be.
Today, the current matters. Tomorrow it won’t.
All that matters, this moment, is that my dog
returns the stick I’ve thrown and not run away.
Yet, nothing we accomplished in that time,
in all its impracticability, will matter
to all this ceaseless renewal all around.
Tomorrow the future will pull me from
my past even if my feet don’t move,
even if my ashes are urned.
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