midday devotions
the clock ticks
the dryer rumbles
the buttons and zips
in the heart of the turning
click and scrabble
off the beat
I am out of sequence
I who have become
an acolyte of waking
bring my devotions now
to the luminance of midday
the thrum of distant mowers
shadowless light in a shaded room
the soft tick of that small clock
my heart
