Why, Father Time? Poem by Ferdinand L Quintos

Father Time, did you break your hour glass?
Each season now's no longer as it was,
a typhoon packing strong winds now rages
in places you’ve been unknown for ages,
pelting rains and rampaging flood waters
sink a place that year-round in heat swelters.

The rains come when farmers need them not
but give not a drop when they need a lot,
the waters drag the trash to clog city drains
but abandon and leave barren the plains,
and wreak havoc widespread and dreadful
that helps render people’s lives pitiful.

I don’t think old age has caught up with you
for God has made you his alter ego
to keep track and mark the passage of time
in this His beloved earth’s every clime.
Or, pray tell, is it through earthlings’ folly
to whom He gives His graces aplenty?