I wind the clocks.
I need more time.
Things run down.
I wind the clocks.
I set the hands to make
it right. Time gets out
of hand sometimes.
I wind the clocks.
I don’t know what the
day will bring. The clocks
don’t mind. They face the unknown
stoically. Their hands empty
to receive the unexpected and
inexorable. I wind the clocks.
They run down. Another clock
runs within me. It won’t tell
me the time. I run to meet
it and answer the alarm.
ƒ