THE TIDES

I pretend to live in the present.

Now is what I crave, 

Finches at the feeder,

Sunlight on a rose.

But memory

The relentless tide

Suddenly brings alive

A forgotten moment

With such a freight

Of passionate grief in it

I cry out

Alone.

The past is Now.  

The tide rises and falls.

There is no shutting it out.  

-Sarton