We play with time

when we take away an hour

and then in spring give it back

as if we have some power

over time,

but nothing stops the days

from coming,

or the months,

and years,

and sitting here

living by this pond,

glancing at the hour hand I moved,

I don’t feel any younger or less ignorant

and chuckle at the game

we play

when we change the time

as if the sun and stars

and phases of the moon

will change their pace.

Today will come and go

no matter what I do.

It’s love that matters

and so I write these love songs

to the pond

and cherish

my aging breath that lets me

be here

by this lovely pond

for one more day