tick, tock, tick, tock

time can be heard.

the old clock

calling out

but life

is measured in moments.

light fills the sky,

painting color

as the sun

lifts its head.

steam rises

from morning coffee

swirling off the rim

until it’s gone

or gives in to the day.

a leaf loosens

from the branch,

drifting on the wind,

taking its time

before it knows the ground.

children run

through the grass,

kicking up pollen and light.

dandelion seeds

hovering around them

like something

they don’t have to believe in yet.

tick, tock, tick, tock

just the clock,

trying to imitate

what life does

without asking