• Vol. 10
  • Chapter 12
Image by

TEMPORAL ELECTIVES

Time Present.
Time Past.

Like grey, wet cobblestones
from the stream
in spring.
We've filled them
in our
gunny sacks.

The gleaners and I,
picking up
our cards
for
October
through
eroded dimensions,
we sing off-key.

But when sung,
the mellifluence
is for
our babies
who will
leave for
the university towns
this coming summer.

1

TEMPORAL ELECTIVES


Time is
wet clay
in the hands
of posterity,
always on the lookout
for
youth
and hopeful
hamlets
as ours.

Time
is on our side.
We will glean
its golden treasures
from our fields.
Just in time
for
those who
come after us.

2