I am learning to read the clock.
clock on the wall that
into 60 straight sided sections,
or the boiling clock on my phone
that bursts a bubble every second,
but the great rolling clock of the world,
that surges and slows, so that time passes
sometimes fast as a swift flowing stream
sometimes oozing like treacle from a spoon,
that measures hours by the turning
of a sunflower, days by the life
of a butterfly, that twists and turns
back on itself, complex and complete;
and the subtle clock
that sits deep in my belly,
timing my days, whispering
hunger, sleep, morning, work,
that measures my steps,
the stirring of my coffee,
the sweep of my hand across my face.
For Mish at dVerse, who asks us to write about what we are continuing to learn.