To drift

To drift

In aimless distraction

A log rolling in a river

Staying afloat

Bouncing blindly

From rock to rock

A liferaft for the drowning

Finding purpose

In extremis

Is there satisfaction

In knowing

A restless wind

Has nothing to do

But blow

Leaves tossed on high

Are not weightless

They will still fall

The crisp crunch underfoot

Is not a rotten end

Even for a sycamore wing

But the breaking down

Of a new beginning

There are no early worms

No rehearsal

To seed dispersal

No low

Without a high

Little purpose

In goodbye

Unless a drift

Becomes a shift

In emphasis

Without the need

For a dramatic rescue

In extremis