Don’t become tangled
Like your shoelace
There is no need for haste
Always bracing ourselves
For the crash at the end of the race
Don’t chase that which runs away
There are no forks in the road
If you choose a different way
haste
Storms
Do not quicken my haste
I am always much too soon
Or much too late
Always working against
The lick of the clock
Trying to be calm
In the eye of too many storms
