Seconds

And give me the not-quite-gold,
the earring found on the sidewalk
without its clasp, the little sip
of coffee left in a paper cup—

Give me the bit role with no
speaking parts so I can be near
the ones whose hearts sing as if
at the point of breaking—

Give me the ache of light
that licks the undersides
of leaves just before dusk,
that dot of butter in the tea—

Give me even that brief
moment of rending, visceral
shudder after the god has grazed
the hills in his passing—

In response to Via Negativa: Ukiyo.