The clock on the wall hammers away
in the quiet house before sunrise, oblivious to Sunday morning
rituals.
Nary a breath escapes while the beat skips on along-
long whole, holy, sunny sun days-
while others pray I lay behind dreaming doors,
light pouring in, purring snores,
while that clock ticks off
and takes, takes, takes
its sweet time,
this time I think-the time-
Time-it takes too long to make every single
second
count
may be wrong.
***********************
The kitchen sink taps a tune
into a rose colored glass
muffling its measure
by the minute
becoming
optimistic by the hour.
Between that quiet space
of steady shine and rise
coming up on-
it is too easy to lose the pace
or miss the place
where to chime in...
.........................................
The fridge hums steady and warm,
the oven clean and cool
both standing white in the background.
Painting By Catherine Wiley (Tennessee Portrait Project) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
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