Conversation

A poem that speaks to me on the last day of my spring break of getting things done.

—————

The Edges of Time
by Kay Ryan

It is at the edges
that time
thins.
Time which had been
dense and viscous
as amber suspending
intentions like bees
unseizes them. A
humming begins,
apparently
coming
from stacks of
put–off things or
just in back. A
racket
of claims now,
as time flattens. A
glittering fan of things
competing to happen,
brilliant and urgent
as fish when seas
retreat.

https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2005/08/01/the-edges-of-time