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