For all our days of counting,
we cannot pause the reckoning.
Our landscapes change;
our windows on them change.
Our days are numbered
in increments of light or dark
and we imprison what we see
in images, lists and ledgers.
We live with time’s unravelling
but, whatever changes or persists,
we cannot pause the reckoning
for all our days of counting.
© BH, 2024
I've been wrestling with the New Year. Several poems later - most as yet, still in process - these lines matched themselves with an image posted on Facebook.
That gave me the impetus to tidy one set of words to fit what I made of the original image.
Time and change - that's what it's all about…
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