Triumvirate

Now pulls Then along
in a little red wagon
as it trudges a dirt path
on its way to Hereafter.

The grass is long
and bends with the wind.
It is busy going nowhere.
The grass smell defines summer.

A shower falls from the clouds,
douses Paul as he lies on this back
in the meadow’s buffalo grass.
Eyes wide open. Aimed skyward.

In the meadow, his Hereafter
and Now coexist
and his Then climbs out of the wagon
and lies down upon him.

His world blurs with the next
as raindrops fall toward his eyes
and automatic muscle movements
trough the droplets along his lashes.


copyright © 2019 Kenneth P. Gurney