all you gotta do is shine

The day after yesterday is the day when
tomorrow saturates the
whistful lawn with pocket-gems
of dew. And however the maroon
and gold caterpillar
chomps on petunia's petunia's
petunia's leaves, is the way all
of us lifers are loved by God. All you gotta
do is shine. Or
let the
sun shine on
you. Or just
let. Let sun or
God or life or rain do what
it gotta do.
Day or night, the minutes are
small and
particular like the bites of a
famished caterpillar. And then a
black
wind gallops down
main street, at midnight, erases
all memory.