Magic

It’s magic:  the seasons change,
magic, how time – that mysterious substance – moves along,
one touch of light to the next.
And then: darkness.

Magic: the clouds waltz in the sky.
Sometimes, they float together, granting us grey.

It is magic, (is it not?):
life passes so quickly and we are lost in trying to understand,
to comprehend its passing. (We forget to shake our heads in wonder.)

Magic: how ordinary light burns the branches of a tree,
sets it ablaze,
and I, witness to it, am grateful.

Magic: moment to the next moment:
now – now – and now…

Mary Elyn Bahlert, 9/24/17, Oakland