Turtle Clocks Watch Poem by Alven L. Robinson

Turtle clocks watch
the hours sent,
withered fingers bent,
curved, a crescent moon
deserved - perhaps -
knitting traps, lap dog
rocking to and fro,
slowly, going to the fair,
winds to seek
soft silver hair, eyes
cast to the floor,
the door ajar - outside
trees, aspens, breathing,
leaving, falling, calling
patiently, dropping by
last friend to sigh
until then, just when,
a question soon,
sometime, perhaps again,
knowing, wondering - yes,
no - waiting - for what?
for why? - decaying
thoughts spun awry,
listening, drawing near
or far, someday clear
a view, a tear to touch,
mist to her sight
drifting, more an more,
into the stream,
a pure bird seen
flying - above, below
inside the snow
swirling in the dark
or white.