Sand & Glass

The sands slip gently through the hourglass,
and bury ever deeper every one
of us, scarred as we are by wind and sun.
If we could but be buried 'til they pass,
then rise at dusk as that great ball of gas
is setting, red-eyed, tired, long work done,
and mischievously through the membrane pass
and over blackskied dunes, unfettered run.

But nature's glass is strong, her patient sands
relentless and resilient to our slights
until we learn surrender to her truth:
The glass and sand are one in nature's hands;
the long rest 'neath the grains, our final rites;
until the glass is turned again for youth.

Dan Halberstein lives in Alexandria, Virginia and works as a writer, designer, and contracting officer's technical representative for the United States government. His political satire has been published by The New Republic, American Politics, and Roll Call, among other less known outlets, and his poetry has been accepted by Susquehanna Quarterly, The Confused Muse, and Folly Magazine. Halberstein lives with two cats and fellow poet Laura Heidy, whom he has successfully urged to outshine him in all things literary.