Closing

Gradually, it seems as if —
The content of each hour, each day
Has shrunk
The extent of the world
Has grown narrower

Like a flower
Folding back into a bud —
A shutter
Closing

Yet even in the squint
Of an instant
The world appears
Complete, whole

And you wonder what changed
Perhaps —
It’s not the flower
Folding into a bud
But the petals
Quietly falling

The world’s extent hasn’t narrowed
Only the eye
To contain it
Is closing