late
equalizes, stills
almost like an Adirondack vista seen
from a jutted, perilous perch
on a craggy overhang
peering down miles and miles.
Mindful of the time
it is tiny pleasures
we prolong
that keep us from our bed
cramming in as much folly as
can be stolen,
drawn away from Death’s entreaty.
One more hour
one more sip and bite
the lovely power of our palate
the might of a wayward tongue.
(For more by Alice Shapiro’s “Life: Descending/Ascending” go to www.totalrecallpress.com or www.amazon.com.)