Pinning a Tail on a Wisp

Our patient fingers spin and shuffle  
laying waste to preconceived notions  
that waiting is always still.
 
While I run the plow and stir the ground
with tilling phrases  
my soul pauses  
bracing its back against the white noise--the flurry of activity.
 
Bar an early exit  
get lost in motion,
that when a breath
freezes  
its landscape highlights  
how patience waits  
while its spinning feet
still make heavy footprints  
on the face of life.