I go along
like everything is regular
like everything is run of the mill

but snapping awake
or being the last to lock up
or the wind in the trees

or some random news
or the end of summer
or a late night siren

or my untied shoelace
or any damn thing it seems
makes me feel the brevity of this life

and I look down and away
to hide from others
the big wave

that rolls over me
the world still here
so sharp and defined

nothing regular
nothing run of the mill
nothing standing still
_________________

Bob Hudson knows judo.

Bob Hudson, Poetry