and then of course there are the moments

not quite in focus

yet intensely bright and wishful.

a strange mixture of fact, emotion and dream.

projecting themselves into the

uneven crevices

formed between past and now

shielded by those weathered things

overgrown and protective

and confused

i often (seldom) consider that these

moments

might neither become more focused nor clear

forever

by one more sunday morning on the porch