Puzzling by Joan Currie

I sit before a spill
of a thousand pieces
trying to make order–
edges, colors, shapes:
an airplane, little man, Shrek,
Swiss cheese punched with holes…

It hardly matters.
The pieces are finite,
and even if a few are lost
the picture will declare itself
in time.

But in life–
I will never know the count.
The shapes keep changing,
colors fade as I reach for them.
I turn my mind this way
and that, seeking a fit,
some clear design.

Still, the table
remains scattered.
I learn to live beside it.
The clarity I seek
remains elusive.