Times And Moments

There are Times when I do
Not see you. Yes, there are
Plenty of jeweled
Cities that bear out
Across a widened map when
The dog Smiles at me
Unknowingly.
Yes, there
Are times. Blessings are
Determined and a Curse
Has noticeable
Legacies.
It is those in-between
Happenings that give way
To Wonder in the
Aspect of reciprocal
Moments
Of gratitude and of rough
Cursings.

There are moments.
Yes, there are times and there
Are moments when Moscow
Is when Dresden
Was when Berlin is
Its respective
Distance…often enough in
The American towns in
The Written Word, in the
Ancient
Musings
You were not Alexander!
Nor Napoleon, not even Frederick! Ah, how
Assuming you would even wish to be…
And how would you?'

And whether it is meant
To lighten or add-on-to is about
The same as
A not-quite-blessing
Or curse. The sickness and
The brief flights
Of darkness or fantastic Light, of
Shimmering Generals and uniforms
Burnt to the procession of Beauty
And Time…they are all
Moments. The May-lit rooms
Filled of Plover song and
Memories…

Are Moments.

There are Moments.
Yes.

But despite:
Any crossroads apparent.
What is, is, what you or he or
Time itself teaches. Moments.

Wake up, darling.
A Moment has
Passed and here you are again,
My Love,
Human and real and there
Will be Moments, but
Not
Now.