Out of time

As breakfast coffee drips into the pot,
lunch bubbles on the stove, last week’s
black beans fresh from the freezer.
Some clocks are five minutes off
and I don’t know what day it is.
Beneath the surface, my life
is chaotic as it seems;
I’m always out
of time.

Outside, cardinals brighten boughs
that, last week, bowed to snow.
Crowds of daffodils raise defiant heads,
crows and hawks alternate their spirals,
violets peep through the frost-burned lawn.
Beneath the surface, nature works outside of time.

~~~

Inspired by GoDogGo Café.
I wanted to write about calm beneath chaos, but when I entered the poem, I found I was still in my hectic whirlpool of overwork, made disproportionately worse by that mere hour “lost” to Daylight Savings. Then we took our morning walk (later than usual) and my husband said, “I keep wanting to rush nature.”
Don’t we all?

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