A DANCE TO THE MUSIC OF TIME

Such heedless creatures we were as children: animalistic in our approach to life, each day a new beginning and Time a matter of no concern.
How different it seems now.

DANDELION CLOCKS

As children, we scattered them
not caring where they flew or fell
and thought we measured Time itself.

I count them now, this season’s crop,
each puff-ball head, each milky stem.

Uncut, run wild, they flourish well
that white-haired mob, unlike myself,
who dreads the moment time will stop.