black sticks, paper, hand cut
waiting to be pasted
Will they wait for me
or bounce away like some tiny pogo stick
or sprout legs
running
it is a race to begin
or
finish
It is the time to make things fit
work
and I wait thinking about what is best
or what is not
Just like everything in life
waiting
the paper sticks of life
pasted and past
beginning again new as the fawn
and tiny sticks begin to be the legs of
the babe
or the lines, feet of the crow
around our circled eyes
or the ticks scratched into the wall of time
or the single fearing to be loved
let the pasting commence.