.
Time is no straight line,
it is a serpent
crossing the room sideways
like a glance.
It burns rubber
careening
around every corner
tossing irony,
like bits of confetti
into our pockets.
Time dances a circle
around the fire of desire
then churns out to sea
on a wave of kelp,
unraveling one dream
weaving another.
It flip flops
in crazy eights,
bounces like a rubber ball
on a hot sidewalk
reflecting all angles
oblique and acute
but always right.
At its best
time is a spiral
lifting our vision
and at the end
it shrinks into a dot
in the palm of our hand,
and with one breath
it blows us away
into the heart of forever.
.
© 2014, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright
.
Seasonings 
I really like this. (-:
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Thank you kindly! 🙂
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You’re welcome. I always like it when a writer takes a unique look at things.
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Beautiful image upon beautiful image….maybe time is our God…
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It does seem that we revere time, let it run our lives more than it should. I like the idea of a dimension beyond time and space….
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Time does seem to move that erratically during life.
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It does… especially looking back at it.
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Oh this is superb Betty! We create time really don’t we. I just love every single image in this lovely poem. Hugs xx
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Christine, thank you! And I believe you’re right – time is mostly subjective. Wishing you a good week!
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A whole bunch of poems all in one. 🙂
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Yep – I had trouble wrapping this one up. 🙂
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Managed it though. 🙂
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