if day has to become night

Sometimes I feel old; I can see

Sometimes I feel old; I can see
time collecting:
a fat water droplet bowing some
thick grass stem
its weight an imperfect circle back to the earth
holding on impossibly lo
ng before rolling regretfully off.
years are splashed so roughly
against concrete
and memory is spread so clearly,
one fragile film absorbed with a glance
but the water is thin against the pavement
and black dust floats near the top
obscuring the speckles and liquid beneath
now each old rainbow bounce
suddenly lost
but another drop is building; anoth
er drop will fall as dew
condenses another