we fill time, waiting for it to fill us this morning i hear a cardinal, calling from some perch invisible, singing a tune I cannot understand and yet i do sense something, forming as bird song fills the air, echoing within the rafters of my being what should i feel when i pause, listening to life i don't understand, hearing my own pulse bound within? a roadrunner presented herself this morning, strutting with defiance over the powdery earth, eyeing me as if i was not there she was in no hurry, idling in the path before me, staring into the distance as if she knew something no clock in her nest, no measuring device strapped to her torso, her legs baring themselves to the task of nothing at least nothing that either of us could name so i stopped she stopped too we both simply waited and somewhere, in a place not so far from here the minutes of morning released their grip on meaning.