Chronicle

Out of the mustard tang that filled my mouth
with the vivid day once when wind
brought itself riffling through my short golden mane
like the hand of God being the cub’s mother’s tongue
came that time when life was endless wonder
and listening to the wind take away laughter
as a chime with wings as little silver
stars afloat like darting butterflies
as sipping hummingbirds at one long meal
within that wind on such wide wings
as monarchs never know nor hummingbirds
but boys and girls flying their youth
wantonly was my dear time wasted
and now it is bells for a stopped watch
where I have ground my teeth out
my novel of ten thousand pages
empty as my mouth