A Rhyme Of Hours Poem by Ben Gieske

- after reading “A Rhyme of the Sun-Dial”
by William Bell Scott

The clock runs on, ‘tis but half-past one”
The baker’s done, all buns eaten but one.

After a nap, ‘tis but half-past two:
Never too late to prepare the stew.

Like a new day, ‘tis just half-past three:
Still much more to do for you and me.

Surely the sun knows it’s half-past four:
The paper is slung against the door.

My stomach tells me it’s half-past five:
There’s other goals for which we should strive.

It’s news on the tube at half-past six:
All can see that good and evil don’t mix.

Midway through and ‘tis half-past seven:
Paddling Rick Steves down the Severn.

The night is young even at half- past eight:
We make our choices, don’t believe in fate.

The die is cast and it’s half-past nine.
There’s still time to discern the sublime.
It’s getting late, ‘tis half-past ten:
Checking again if e-mail was sent.

Day almost spent, half-past eleven:
The pillow so soft, dream sleep ‘til seven.

A new day is born, now half-past twelve:
Morning bells will ring wishing us well.

- July 23,2008