these days

Solid Air

In an attempt
to preserve these days,
guard them against the wind-fed
fires of an impatient and wild-eyed enemy
sweeping toward the gauntlet of trees we planted
without benefit of a plan of attack, somewhere between
here and there, upon a hill where solid air stands at attention
dutifully informed of our intention to launch our volleys into the valleys
that swallow 'now ' in favor of forever ending tomorrows that come and go
without a fight - unlived in, unsung, coming undone, trampled, trapped,
all but forgotten beneath the progress, the lock-step of clock armies,
of time-marches-on, against which we wage a slowly won war of
preservation over an impermanence until we disarm our enemy
and hold these days captive, leaving them to hang in solid air,
in the languorous splendor of limbo, in effigy of nothing more,
nothing less than themselves, quiet and timely reminders
caught in the slight spin of the wind, immobile and yet
mobile enough to move emotions from foul to fair,
a sense of peace even in the valleys below
at last , if not forever, a feeling of 'now'
pervading, invading like a timeless
avenger and conquering army
at ease in the moment
of these days.