Time

Once, long ago
time grew in my garden
nestled among wee peas
baby carrots and budding wisdom
spreading tendrils
to all corners,
eventually pushing boundaries and
spilling over.
Autumn's hungry dusk crept in
and come morning
time was gone.

OVERFLOW

Thoughts spill from the pitcher

in your hands.

They slop over and land everywhere,
drops of ideas pooling on
the flowers
the table
the floor,
all with equal chance to
nourish,
damage or

evaporate
and make no difference
at all.