Timepiece

I’ve not yet told you of my interest in time.
I am not invested in its passing per se
but I love how leaves change in fall
and how trees grow and shed
branches and bits to keep growing.
I like seeing rivers and seas ebb and flow
with passing days and months.
Years are too large for me to wrap around-
you can say ten or 100 years
and I can only imagine through next week.
The Bible’s time doesn’t bother me
because it’s all too much to imagine
with my limitations anyway.
I don’t think about my age much
but I apply cream every day
to minimize the weariness I see.
I don’t worry about being late
but I love clocks and watches
and the act of noting the time,
as if the number means something mystical
or scientific when we are born or die.
I was born at 3:15 a.m. and I don’t know
if that affects anything else in my life-
I was also a month premature, so maybe
I’ve always been in a hurry.
Which is humorous now that I know
I’m not getting anywhere.
Except in my head, where I imagine
time as a back and forth proposition,
where I can go places and yet be safe,
be loved and love openly without remorse,
where I can watch rivers surge,
moon cycles spin, and my hand held
like there’s no tomorrow.