Time has it
And angles have it
And even the last hooded shadow has it.
Then pragmatism, then simple math, then the end of days
Or southwestern sunsets
And crazy things doubled over after a long walk and a long winter.
Saddle up and want not.
Pack it in and want at all.
Come feathers and something to drink, it does you well
And sleep and whatever tricks you have to yield a quiet mind
While they render and manufacture and tear it all down
Everything that bleeds bleeds