Last Thirty Minutes
/Last Thirty Minutes Before the Work Evening Begins
A young person sits delicately
underneath the dogwood tree,
this year, autumn is indecisive;
playing tug of war with spring.
The day light shutters, and the
incoming night approaches so
much earlier than it used to.
Seated in my car, forlorn look
in weary eyes, lines of age and
thinning hair.
I've come to realize that life is
but an inkling, a twinkle of an
eye, flicker of a flame; then gone.
I realize also, that like this moment,
this one too shall pass; the young
person has disappeared leaving the
dogwood tree alone, I must clock in
now; starting this mad cycle again.
By Wayne Russell
From: United States