I am wary of this step,
one small rudderless stride
which turns my sleep.
My foot levers up, lifts
its sole with the silent gulp
of a wing beat.

Its concave swing skates over
stars undulating in
a mud red Rubicon,
its passage irrevocable.
It is a Spring day
fat with growth,
a soon to be obliterated
moment of yellow and blue.
Dandelion clocks blow in the verge
in a slow countdown to zero.

The shadow of my boot ratchets
across gravel, mimics the
wanton cadence of a sun
which kills old men, and young,
in a single stiff limbed vault.
This one step is dense
with a plangent ground bass,
the coupled pendulum of
past and future.

My heel strikes first
stretching a lean thread.
From where I stood
a million songs mute with age,
scores more grow, and graze for
a short time in the long grass.
My weight lands at last.
The moment twines and curves;
in a single breath a star collapses.