A TIME OF WONDER,
A TIME OF DREAM
I have thrown the hands of
Sedgewick out; they've now
fallen through the corridors
of time. There is a graveyard
on the road where, it seems,
the groundskeeper is constantly
working. I wonder what he
thinks as he recirculates over
all that ground; the mowing
and the tilling, the planting
and the milling. So much
done with so little said.
-
The gravestones apparently never
change : not the dates or the names
or the places? A motto, a slogan,
some pithy epitaph about Heaven
and all those walls of time. A willow,
inscribed, by a slowing stream, in
a time of wonder, a time of dream.
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