So little time, and if I knew
I would rush out into streets and alleys,
down to the sunny marsh
to watch herons fish.
I would take up with the neighborhood,
make acquaintance with the Labrador
who barks in the yard and needs a walk
and I would offer to walk him.
I would call you up, and say let’s meet
and talk about everything
let’s meet before the sun goes down
drink cups of delicious coffee
get to know each other again
before I take off on my spring bicycle
whose tires I have just pumped up
and I’d ride hands-free like a child.
And if I knew how little time
I’d lie in bed with her the whole evening
after a crispy salad and vegetable lasagna
and we would watch the late show, chuckle, and fall asleep.
I would wake in the early dark morning
kneel by the window, listen for the train’s horn
as it hauls freight from mysterious Indiana
and the night moon still rides high.
I would do these things, I would
celebrate the very sidewalks,
I would call out to all the world
love this, love me, there is so little time.