I say that David took the hands off my clocks.
It was the greatest gift he could give me.
I tire of running my life with a large hand and a small hand.
No time for this, hurry for that. Do this now, do that before.
I hate it. With a passion.
I want to immerse myself in time and swim in it.
Feel it around me yielding
and yet holding me up.
I want to feel the eternity of it
and I want to see my house and yard
at different times under the sun.
To be able to say that in the morning
this is precisely how they look.
I want the information stored in my Memory Bank
for those times when I feel bereft.
I want to see the moon rise and give way to the sun.
I want to see the rainbow
around the moon and say again
we are in for a big snow.
I want to find the joy in the mundane task
of shaking out the kitchen rugs
on the back porch and feel the cold boards
beneath my slippers and the cold air
stealing beneath my clothes.
I want to keep looking at the moon with a glance
because no farmer stares at the moon too long
and say hello David.
And when I feel very homesick, I will again
as I have in the past, take my coffee
out on the porch and sit beneath the midnight sky
with the stars daring me to look up
and identify them and again
revel in this multifaceted existence called Life.