Saturday, September 29, 2012

A Poem Again

              THE NATURE OF TIME

Time lives in the dream a lonely person takes to bed,
sits on the twisted finger behind my crochet hook,
grows on the stairs and in the doorways of museums after dark.

Time beckons school children, pregnant women,
and certain Christians.
Time walks to weddings, visits wars, dances at funerals,
shuns no one, deceives many, never sleeps.

Time smiles on mushrooms, prays for trees, punishes fire.
Time looks in the mirror and knows where I am.
Time is a colorless rainbow carving the darkness of space.


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