Sometimes the sun takes hours to shut down;
I go slower.
In that expansion of a celestial tilting, 
I go slower.

The Milky Way pushes its light years hulk
once around
each several hundred million years.

From birthday to ceremony,
season to remembrance, 
time alters its spaces.

And the ducks cross Canandaigua Creek
as they did when I was ten, 
counting them in their single line.

Published in Until Crazy Catches Me, Antrim House (2008).