Remind Hands
There's a time when sweet hums
That hover on a whisper

Seem to infuse the earth
With slower rotation,

Seeding dirt under grass scent,
Wind-blown and

Everything frozen alive—
The picnic basket,

The tulip family
Squeezed into gentle order, all

Remind hands
To remain.

Crows nip auto,
As lovers do.

So do the passing away
Of excitements

Sleep on the nimbus of ignorance.
On its tender heaven

They lie.

© GriffPoetry