If my life was a well-timed clock tuned
by some master clocksman, never losing
time, never wasting ticks,or losing
them amid the counting, I might
make some use of this life.
Unceasingly they come, 360
degrees of ticking, too
many for any simple
mind to sift through,
to effectively calibrate
to efficiently control, to
use. With success a noteworthy
goal, the rusted top rung of the
ladder, a well-raked autumn yard, it
seems there would be someone to help us
all with this time and calibration nonsense.