You straight edges that turn the swells
of sunlight flat;
Calipers that fold the pleats of landscape
to a map;
Compasses that fix the endless world
with sticks,
And metronomes that clip our ageless
songs with clicks,

Hourglass that traps the tides
In a draining jar of sand,
And pendulums whose waning glides
Make the future second hand,

Fill the gauges of our empty pond
With the astronomical embrace of time,
With notches on a magic wand
That mime the galaxies of rhyme,

The light years of a lover’s face
With measureless degrees of grace.