When time is generous with me

On certain days,
When I'm the right amount of tired and awake,
Time is generous with me.

It flows
With the weighty, sticky velocity
Of golden-brown forest honey.

It stands
Nearly still
Like sultry middle eastern air on a hot day.

The ticking of the clock,
Slowed and muffled,
Its needles slightly too heavy to move in sync.

The sun paints rainbows on my lashes,
Obstructing my sight,
Directing it towards the ephemeral.

The music takes my body,
Decides to dance with it,
Carrying me from one life to the next.

When time is generous with me,
It inserts between two moments
Another one.

So small it could close go overlooked
And yet clearly there;
If only I tilt my head in just the right sort of way.

Waiting
For nothing at all.

Never do I feel more blessed
Never richer
Then on those days; when time is generous with me.