TIME

A metronome is loud. It has to be
To be heard above the practice sounds: a fiddle
Is close to the ear. And time divides in brittle
Segments, the units marked immodestly

By clicks of chronometers, chimes from grandfather clocks,
Peals from belfry steeples; also whispered
Electrical pulses battery-powered, encysted
In [jeweled] bracelet watches: no orthodox

Escapements–merely electrons coursing under
Control. We look too much to the measuring and not
Enough to the measured. Ticks and tocks are what
Reckon Time. The essence lies beyond

And below all we can see or hear or feel.
Time is the silent music of the real.

(152 April 8, 1994)

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