Before anything can happen, we enter waiting.
When asked, what are you doing, we answer with our waiting.
The impetuous leap on a notion of freedom,
too soon to learn the benefits of power waiting.
A delay, derailed train, detention earned for swearing:
from this gap, you can see the ink-edged flower, waiting.
Time’s armies march on and over whatever’s there.
Is it to linger, to lodge, or to cower, waiting?
Everyone already had made ready and made off.
I am still there, naked and quenched, in the shower, waiting.
I’d been waiting to hear “Amanda” from the silence,
not knowing my acclaim came from each hour waiting.