December 12, 2023

late

We’re not too late, despite the time, the diminishing light. The ground, I know,
is already frozen – nothing to coo at or water or harvest. The mind fills 
with missed chances, tests that could have used more practice with 
the flashcards, a window we could have opened to let in the air 
that might have changed the channel of our attention. We could compare notes 
on how badly we played the odds, how much we abandoned to get ahead, 
how ruthlessly our courage gave out, the stuffing we are still spilling 
from the seams. But to what end is the pull toward regret? How 
can we lift our mouths to the trough of the next sentence when we are still 
chewing the cud of the last?