About Time

About Time

(“The Lord is good to all, and has compassion on all he has made.” Psalm 145:9)

It was about time the rain stopped, about time the sun held sway
against yesterday’s angry skies. Nearly everyone noticed:
walking dogs, barking seals, daffodils budging above the clods;
a sweet dulcimer with soft hammered songs,
mowers buzz-cutting their shaggy lawns,
children squeal, sunlight heals, dancing blooms bestowed applause.

It was about time, we had waited to see the signs of relief,
each blistering gale that grabbed branches like swords,
ripped roof tiles and aimed them like discs toward the hills
decorated with debris. It was about time the lights came on

Where one could see burrows beneath fallen limbs,
bell-flowers awake and yawning misty investiture of Spring.

What if we are Hand-made? What if we are hard copy original,
a single-run print of a Grand idea that could never be repeated?
What if, just like sculptor’s work in wood, we are perfect and marred;
would we, unalarmed, love the art that left signature cuts rugged
and against the grain?

When the sun and breeze meet together where the seal couple
arrive each year about this time, listen to the miniature waves
hit the stones and lose some time wondering about music’s rhythm,
watercolor’s suspense, creation’s timing and the sheer nonsense of

Poetry’s thin attempts of anything concrete at all.