Of Clouds and Clocks


Clouds are timeless wanderers;
entranced, I watch them
through my kitchen window --
roaming restlessly
across the earth's rotating face.

Behind me, I can hear
a clock's relentless beat;
each tock is based
on its preceding tick
and calculates the measured pace
between what was
and what is yet to come.

But clouds have no such obligations;
they can drift at will or frolic
with the wind until
they hurl themselves in wild
abandonment upon the ground.

I wash my dishes in their flow
and they just billow down
the drain, await their trip upstairs again.

I wish that I could tie
tick-tocks of time
to cloud trails in the sky.



© 2001-03 Laryalee Fraser



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Free verse:
Remembrance
The Shallow Season
Of Clouds and Clocks
Dark Desires


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