Impermanence and The Dishes

What is it about how

you fill up an ice tray

that reminds me of the

difference among snowflakes?

Or why the random pattern

of pomegranate torn open

by mockingbirds on the lawn

looks like the puzzle

of your dishwasher load.

Is it merely the way you

are framed by the moment,

or the picture behind you,

left hanging askew

on a nail firmly anchored,

to the inescapable

impermanence of us?

“I’ll help with the dishes”