Time

Was there ever a time without time,

with what was and is

and what will be?

It is the clock that tells us

that now has given way to past,

heedless of the future.

Only you and I project ourselves

into time as yet unborn

as we try to stop its onward march

with all the ravages, the wear and tear,

the inevitable mortality,

of time.

Yet time is also growth, anticipation.

The clock ticks on

a leaf floats down

a bud becomes a flower.

The clock ticks on

as is yields to was.

tick

tock

The clock ticks on

grandfather, cuckoo, alarm,

wind-up, atomic, biological,

wrist watch, church or city tower

tick

tock

tick

tock

Time

implacably moves on. 

The flower goes to seed

…and is no more.

The clock ticks on

and “now” becomes anticipation.

Waiting for the seed to bud

to turn into a flower.

Waiting for a touch, a smell, a breeze

to call forth memories

of things that were,

thankful for what is now and

hopeful for what will be.