TIME AND AGAIN

Time has never been a forte of mine. Unless I write down what's to be done and work off the list I'm usually all over the place. Time runs away from me constantly.

Being away from one's home gives time a new meaning. One's able to do and see things that can make being alive so special. We were on the East Coast in April. We went to the beach. Rich was fishing and I spent time inspecting the seashore, rock pools and just taking in the wonders of how beautiful and unstoppable nature is.

How long has it taken for the pothole to form in the rocks??

Aren't the colours just amazing. The sun shines it's hot, it rains and it's cold, the tides come in and out, nature carries on regardless of all our cares and concerns.

I had the most amazing peaceful and serene time on the beach this day.

 

  

I found this poem by Barbara Crooker on one of my most favourite blogs ornamental.typepad.com.








In the Middle

of a life that's as complicated as everyone else's,

struggling for balance, juggling time.

The mantle clock that was my grandfather's

has stopped at 9:20; we haven't had time

to get it repaired. The brass pendulum is still,

the chimes don't ring. One day I look out the window,

green summer, the next, the leaves have already fallen,

and a grey sky lowers the horizon. Our children almost grown,

our parents gone, it happened so fast. Each day, we must learn

again how to love, between morning's quick coffee

and evenings slow return. Steam from a pot of soup rises,

mixing with the yeasty smell of baking bread. Our bodies

twine, and the big black dog his great head between;

his tail, a metronome, 3/4 time. We'll never get there,

Time is always ahead of us, running down the beach, urging

us on faster, faster, but sometimes we take off our watches,

sometimes we lie in the hammock, caught between the mesh

of rope and the net of stars, suspended, tangled up

in love, running out of time.