In matters of life and world, dark and light, time is messy,
wet with fog, with mist, that blurs morning and twilight
Clocks are cherished only in the skulls of men seeking
regularity in closed rooms
Outside, the click-clack of water sounds through underbrush;
cycles of day and night; bodily rhythms, run on without notice
Raindrops strike ponds; leaves record the tick of sap; cheeks,
each fallen tear, without a stopwatch
I see the sky turn gold and red at random, drench farms,
withhold needed rain, how mortals flail and shrink and lapse
on whim without explanation
As witness to these events I join a gecko at dusk resting
from its battles for food, from conquests for mates,
curling and uncurling its long elegant tail on a chunk
of coral in the shade of palm fronds above the cemetery
of my rock garden
A sprinkler explodes in the thick bushes behind us
The lizard and I flinch together, exhale, collect ourselves
It lifts its sharp nose to catch the water’s fresh scent
I hear the tock of the end of day
It is the loneliness of my woman calling
from inside our house
The time is now