So here we are now – high summer, entering the second half of the year.
I'm more conscious than usual of time passing. Yellow flags flower for such a short time, the cows will move on and even ox-eye daisies last only a while.
Yet time is timeless: endless, it's the one thing that will never run out.
All the time in the world... 'Natural Time', whatever that may be.
Above all, the sun tells the time, giving warmth and growth. The daisy with its yellow disk-florets and conspicuous white rays finds its name from its sun-like appearance, literally the day's eye.
And I am watched, even as I watch, while the daisies follow the sun.
All the time in the world
while the grass grows
I am studied heavily
by long-lashed eyes
deep in an old wise head.
Black and white jigsaw shapes
and hour-glass patches
naturally fit together
like settled stones in a wall.
She shifts her weight
waiting. Slow side to side
swing of tail tells the time
our patterns interlock
while the grass grows
and an ox-eye daisy
exchanges my gaze.
Each of us a solitary face
that watches the other
as the grass goes on growing
and time passes naturally.
Post script – that's to say, written later, for what it's worth...
July is the seventh month and I learn that in Numerology the ox-eye daisy is associated with the number seven. From a musical point of view, I see the seventh as an interval that suggests time, existing for a moment but wanting and waiting to move on, with a past and a future.
another lovely poem that speaks to me. I can't put a photograph on here but I will send you one taken yeserday on my son's farm...
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