This summer afternoon:
how it tunnelled,
a languorous mole,
through the quiet canyons of the day.
“A mere servant of time, Sir…” it muttered,
mournfully dusting the photos
and rearranging the bric-a-brac
until the crickets
and the thousandth Technicolor cloud
relented, letting it stumble off
into the gathering dusk.
Painting by Zoe Martell
Calyx: a Poem a Day 