This moment, and that one there –

     oh, and that one there! – they're
     streaming by so fast, I can't catch
     them and put them in this jar here,

the one I labeled "Moments" just
     before I ran outside, butterfly net

     in hand, to see if I could collect a
     few specimens. They flutter by

without warning or slowing down
     in the least, dip and dive, zip and
     Zoom! – there they go again! –
     alive and pulsing with energy,

not a single replica among them –

     each an irreplaceable token of
     time, not to be mistaken for
     a mere fungible commodity,

not lugnuts, not interchangeable

     parts, but the very brushstrokes
     of one good life, a life given to
     making an art of this moment . . .

                                            and that.