Permanent transience

At night,  I briefly examine a remote possibility
Of  failing to wake up, to a green world of plants
With bees prowling around on the opening petals
The air turned crisp  in lungs, heart fast beating
The leaf fallen to the grass ,resting in its heads
Soft- crunching as up and down of walking feet.

Morning, nearer a possibility of  sleeping night
Happening to bees, to wind, to grass ,to dry feet
I stare down at the  frigid drying feet, on  grass
Now more open-ended and vague about closure.


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