Sands

Sands of years drift
through my fingers –
slicing the air softly,
burying my feet in dunes
of heavy silence.

I watch, as winds shift
all that lays dense –
standing motionless
as the world changes
beneath me.

And I understand –
nothing remains undecided.
Either our steps are chosen for us,
or we choose our steps –
buried by sand, or walking upon it.

~ Nikki Anne Schmutz

National Poetry Month Day #1 post

Sands

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