Time

I can see change

But not time.

I can hear melody

And imagine time like that—

More fanciful than the ticking, chiming of a clock.

I can touch the empty cradle, the fallen leaf,

But time’s texture is a mystery.

Wherever, whatever

Time is,

I see the lightning bolts of white

Working their way

Like magic

From my temple to my skull,

And whatever Time is,

It has touched me.