Not for her, Man's silly watches, keeping
Manufactured time, turning eternal
Tracts of forever into infernal
Seconds and minutes bounded by beeping.
No, not for her, the minute hand creeping,
Alarm clocks ticking order external,Making the rules for lives once diurnal
Setting strict hours for waking and sleeping . . .
Her time is reckoned by the Great Bear's pace
Circling the lynch pin of the starry skies . . .
Hot summer's fecund growth . . . late swarming bees . . .
Slow fall of crisping leaves . . . bright ice's trace.
Her clocks are dandelions and brief May-flies
And cuckoos calling from the spring-green trees.
For more Magpie Tales, go HERE.