Exposed again

Exposed again

Beneath a blue
drenched winter sky,
a cloud floats on by
like sifted flour.

I peer out,
as if perched below
a table, gathering each breath
so as not to reveal myself.

Looking, searching
—scanning the clock of the
day’s minutes ticking by,
I am mindful of harvest.

Harvest is so far away
yet, only yesterday,
I recall its savory abundance.

Just now,
the lofty branches rustle
—the wind lifts their stately limbs.

Do they, the steadfast trees,
recall the season?

Their leaves, once a designer’s 
jacket, the artist left
no name…
the garment whisked away.

Exposed, the nakedness of
this ‘time’ understands no shame.

Beneath a blue 
winter sky,
white flour, flakes of snow,
land on a table.
I crawl out from beneath.

A banquet preparing itself…
and I, blessed to be a 
welcomed guest.