Kurt R.A. Giambastiani

stop
stop
take a moment
stop
listen
hear that?
it’s life
rushing past
at the speed of sound
the tiny earthquake of an infant’s wail
squabbling chickadees on a dew-dropped branch
a sink full of dishes
the dog’s nails snare-drumming on the kitchen floor
cars trucks vans cycles all shushing purring grumbling past
a familiar key in the front door’s lock
voices near, voices far, loud or quiet, laughing, shouting
the fermata of your breath, your heartbeat’s vibrato
a dry fingertip turning a dry page
ice cubes in a tall glass
this
this is life
heard and gone
it is all we are
an ephemeral fabric
uncountable strands
of gossamer