In the meantime, enjoy
the breeze. Consider its sweetness
and how the sunlight extends
over a mountain valley, gossamer
in motion. In the meantime,
think. Wait for the sun and moon 
to paint the sky in months. Know
yourself. Even the old red maple knows
when to lay down its boughs.
Even the midday summer sun
knows winter will deposit 
the slushy sidewalk snow, gray as
a morning. In the meantime, it’s hard
on the body, to wait for anything. 
All we have is space and time.