Snakebasket South West

poem of the
month

The Keeper of the Clock of the Long Now

I am the Keeper of the Clock of the Long Now.
A slow job, it leaves me with plenty of time
to contemplate my short life with its many
twists and turns which I have introduced
in order to entertain myself so I will not
be bored with the straight running of it.
Breath by breath.
Sometimes I forget it is I who has
filled up my life.
Then I sigh and call out
wishing to be free.
The clock is a help then.
It turns its silent face to me
and says nothing.
It is a clock of wonder
measuring Long Time.
It ticks once a year
chimes once a century.
Who knows what it will do at the
passing of a millennium.
It may laugh.
Rose Cook

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