Current

A poem about patience.

By Chris Czermak via Pexels

These things
couldn’t be rushed

By the patter
of breaths
on fog-stained glass

or eyes
that watch
the seconds dwindle

no matter
how hard
impatient lashes beat
like butterflies

in a tremble
of anticipation

or will
an eternity
to be beckoned forward
in a blink

All is as needed
at the favour of
its own reckoning

as no water defies
the current that pulls it