Turning to Time

These latter days bring me full around
the turn to time. The beating heart of it.
The steady drip of it from the eaves
before the light rises through the trees.
The rings of it in the tree
snapped like a twig.
The whirling storm of it.
Time in my hands, a gift.
The spending of it.
Time ahead:
no promises.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s