tired

Fruitful deeds



Plink plink plink
I imagine the sound
Of the sand tracing
Its place at the bottom
Of an empty hourglass
Not empty any longer
But steadily filling
With the seeds of life
All the wants and needs
Fruitless desires
And fruitful deeds alike
Plink plink plinking their way
Filling the space
In this hourglass
Of our life


Chris McQueeney