Some days the hands of the clock race
like speeding rabbits around its face
Other days, they inch along like poking turtles
lulling the clock itself fast asleep
This brutally cold, snowy January morning
time, which we chase each moment, has taken flight
Making its way southward to the land
where the sun shines ever warm and bright
Timeless, spellbound by the lazy falling snow
Desire for a nap overtakes any remaining ambition
to accomplish even the smallest objective
Postponing all races with or against time
January, indeed a time for new beginnings
Also one for hibernation, and
giving birth to dreams that eventually sprout
When later nourished by April’s warm showers
Dreams, latent ambitions, eventually all unfold
as both tortoise and hare within us awaken
and make their way to one finish line, and
ready again for yet another race
Poetic Alchemist 