Hamlet on the Hill of Dunsinane

In a minute there is time

For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

In an hour there is a universe

To decide or to undecide, to rhyme or, instead, unrhyme.

Shall I give my heart to you or not?

Ophelia, the question bedevils me as I sit on this heathered hill.

Is this love or not, or merely lust and rot?

I could sit here another hour but I know I will be puzzling still.

The bee that buzzes the heather,

The sun on my brow, the white clouds that scud across the sky,

Does all of this depend on the weather?

Do you love me or do you not, and if you do, might I ask, why?

      --Christopher T. George

Editor - Desert Moon Review

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