A Poem

Moment Spice

A single vine high in the tree

Different from the others--

A moment in time

As a strand that nearly smothers

The limbs--

I see it climb

(The light it dims)

With its many leaves

That smell like spices--

Sweet fragrances that rhyme

With harmonies somewhat tense

Yet incredibly pleasing--

Dripping down like vices

Of ginger and cumin with jasmine tea--

I cannot see how high 

It rises--the green is dense

My heart is won--

Yet yet yet

My breath I fear it’s seizing

Because I get the sense

With a deep and desperate sigh--

Why must it be--

(The die is cast)

Though I twist and reach and run

To keep it--

The moment cannot last.

Mark Absher

April 2018