you didn’t see it coming.
monday morning. those ides of march.
it’s hard to prepare for the sneaking up. will you take the bait or lie in wait,
aware of all that drifts by,
ready to pounce, or paint,
depending on the moment’s flow.
to follow the drifts where the sun bakes the sea roof,
to let instinct lift anchor.
know yourself and question not. the ides will pass, but the tide always comes.