This is the Time
A November sunset
in the San Joaquin Valley
is yellow as a fried egg.
The sheep in the fields,
the weather-stained barns,
the tractor-high cotton bales
in their glistening wraps
are yellow enough to eat.
In a moment the light fades
to a pale amber,
as if the sun had already set
then returned with an afterthought.
I’m thinking of a woman I met.
I’m thinking of the book I’ve yet to write.
People say, “When the time is right…”
But how long until I hit
the pale yellow afterthought
of my own life?
This is the time. The seasons are changing
and I have little left to lose.
Wael Abdelgawad
11-30-2014
Fresno, California
