Dave Bonta's "Nowness" is about how thin and fleeting the present really is. The opening line says time is "only one second old," which turns the usual idea around: instead of a long past stretching behind us, the poem suggests that all we truly have is a moment that has just begun. Everything before it is already gone.
The next image does a lot of work in very few words. A "print on water" is a mark that can't last, like a footprint or a hand pressed on a pond, vanishing as soon as it appears. The final phrase, "the present draft," plays on two meanings. A draft can be an unfinished piece of writing, always open to change, and it can also be a passing current of air. Either way, the present feels unfinished and fragile.
The speaker doesn't sound upset. The tone is quiet, observant, and a little wondering. The mood is calm but slightly dizzying, as if we are being asked to notice how little ground there is beneath us, and to find that rather beautiful.