moments

Behind the mask of summer sun,

the green rush of spring,

the peace of winter’s silence,

and autumn’s fiery crown

there are only moments strung together.

Beads on a chain,

each as valued as the next;

a necklace fashioned

of attention to this day.

What is gone

and what will be

are links fingered lightly

while we chant

the only word we know:

now,
the glue

of our daily round,

the shining center

from where we came,

to which we shall return.

Arlene Gay Levine