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.




Morning Rain-Clock

Tick tock, plip plop...
clock and raindrops keeping time;
silky syncopated beat
marching through my head as I'm
snug in bed, still half asleep.

Tick tock, plippity plop...
soft-shoe dance of clock and rain
forms a brisk toe-tapping line.
Dot-and-dashing through my brain,
a morse-code message: 'rise and shine!'

Tick tock, plip plop...
rain-clock rhythm fades away,
muffled by the rush of day.



© Laryalee Fraser



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