When the day runs together
and the evening streams in
through the quiet without
and the mind within
the torrent
the haste
the shallowair waste.
Is there joy in the gift of a life rush-spent?
It fearfully wearies the eyes and swift
-ly erodes the skill of division and rest
a mess of stressful somnolence
that holds a zomian line as plight
or pioneering push, for fight:
"Expand the home,
the life,
Shalom"
But naught behind
and naught before,
no gain we find
amassing more.
The Shallowair Waste
Joe Spring writes 