In such slow motion
we walk along autumn.
The first snowflake amidst rain
flickers before unnoticed death.
We dance by with eyes closed.
We skip, gallop, we trip and give a
day or two of thanks. We lift our heads,
there it is: Finals Week.
Like brushing teeth without water.
Like combing hair with thick fingers.
We plunge in with a mask but no air tanks.
Who knew we could live so long without breath?