Contemplating Time

The moment slips away
Like so many others.
Disguised in a train of many
This moment, and it’s brothers.
Lost in laundry, sundry
And cribbing at chores
The subtlety of work-
Just the purity of work;
Of the action itself
So serene,
Lost in the rush.
Rush. To what?
Another moment awaits
To be tossed away
Along with its brothers.
In a hurry to move to the next one
I trash this one too
Like so many others.