Real Time

That afternoon there were moments

Time outs from speaking, breathing

All that surfaced was a ticking

A tocking like a heartbeat

Thump, thump, thump

Like a metronome keeping pace

And we submitted to it

for what else was there

There was no DVD

there was no DVR

There was only us and him

and thoughts and prayers floating

He once again suspended future

and past and invited  present

Oh what a gift it was

like eating breakfast on the beach

after a long arduous night

and light came softly

and spilled on us

through that window of

real time

For Dan Webb in the loss of his son.