MOMENT
I haven't a moment to best my own circumstance:
the bread, the filler, the leavings, all gone. Birds
have eaten these seeds from the ground. Nowhere
but where I have strewn them, of course. And
now - before the chilly wind of Winter arrives -
I throw back, in the same manner, all my caution
to these changing winds and give up care. There
is nothing more but monsters in the moment. Now
we will see what things win out. Alas, my friend,
the world is over - if it ever was at all, if it
really ever was at all.
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