soft sight

the world is getting
softer—a
bleeding of
sharp cut
silhouette into
pools of
blue-green
monet
step-back
view
i see
i hear
mouths move on—words
marbled hymns
of hum
to the drum
constant commotion
time-lapsed
ribbons
of light
dance across
the horizon
my eyes cast
forward
to catch
shadows
of
the past
the past
was such a
doris day

it may be time to get new glasses