Reckoning Poem by aric wilsie

Staring out of the window now.
Lost in the spring of winters past.
The trees like thoughts bend and bow.
At the start of summer thank autumns past.

The days are growing longer full and new.
Is it right to feel this time?
The nights give way as ice turns to dew.
How is it wrong to not feel time?

Another confession then gods bread.
In the end a fool knows what a...
Wandering thought does to a head.
A genius realizes first what a...

Sunday morning can often bring.
A shortness after the question at last.
Some hearts doth hum instead of sing.
Longingly heard, ask that question at last.