Tuesday Poem

Being In Time

Scotland, St. Andrews — cricket chirp of electric watch,
cry of waking gull. A far church sounds a sweet bell seven
times. Quiet. Now the near Presbyterian kirk’s seven, —
………………………….up, up,
………………………….up, up,
………………………….up, up, up,

………….. no going back
………….. cliff-face-climb in front
………….. beneath, the indifferent sea

….. Sitting backwards on a train — rain, low gray fog, Distant cathedral
resolving into stand of poplars. Smoke from a sudden stack disappears
into  low  cloud. Now  stack  gone  along  with  hedgerows, houses, and
field,  field,  field  of  sheep  — the where you have been unknowing,
always unrolling before your eyes.

by Nils Peterson
 from 1001 Words
Thinking of Scheherazade

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