November

I know where I stood for a while was fine
But the little landscapes and houses of fire
Were there beyond
Perceptible but still distant
Stamped hard into that nowhere self

I clasped my hands
Sat on my heels and
Wished that the choices were easier

My eyes already down again
The gravity of cognizance
Thumb in mouth considering the loss
That behind meant

This focus was a split
A needle balanced
And shifting would wreck and surrender
The acknowledgement of impermanence

I am driven to hold still
Uncomfortable and unsatisfied
But still on familiar ground
My hand settled by old patterns

So I sit and wait