When I was a child,
time stretched beyond sight,
out over the curve of the earth;
Summer days deliciously slow,
mid-afternoon stalled in the sky;
the drone of bees the lag of seconds.
Life.
The daily events well worn,
the cobbles of living smoothed;
time slips over them with accelerating
ease and I, past seventy, looking at its blur
like a train-passenger with glazed eyes seeing
the years speed by like telegraph poles.
