Like smoke rises,
Dissipating, permeating
The rest of the air–
Rich, meant for our breath–
So fades this day,
Like the last.
Into weeks. Into years.
Yet the smoke, as much
As it pollutes, is a part
Now indistinct.
This day passes;
Whatever its quality, it passes not
As something toxic,
But as something essential.
(May 6, 2016)
