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THERE IS NO DAYLIGHT
SAVINGS
Time leaves no trail,
fog silently sliding
along the forest floor,
or a cool breeze from some-
where north of here,
a clock
with no hands
or face, just
the seasons as they
sweep by,
my hair as it turns,
blond to brown to grey.
Now I hear the
tick-tock.
I hold my
ears against
the deafening chill.
December 26, 2006