in the chiming of bells from St. Cabrini’s
where the bloom of the Four O’Clock Lily
scents shadows leading to mass.
Time exhales through scheduled trains
that whistle through town and drown
the sighs of weary commuters.
Time endures in the Big Dipper
as it scoops up hours of sky and watches sun
and moon traverse their faithful path.
Time idles behind buttons
on satellite remotes and cowers
in the corner of my computer screen.
Time is the orbit of my neighbor’s drive to work and back,
the flashing band furrowed into my husband’s bristly wrist,
the laughter of children at school day’s end
and the dog’s nightly vigil at his bowl,
his wagging tail
© by Donna Pflueger.
Used with the author’s permission.