Some days whiz by, with
sunrise almost meeting sunset in passing.
But then there are those days that stagger past: a slow unraveling of
time. Clocks tick louder and taunts
with enjoyment of lingering seconds.
What day is this? Fast or slow?
How to measure?
Is time measured in chores
needed to be done? Is it counted out by songbirds
in citrus trees?
Is time meted step by step
from start to destination? Cars passing on
their way to and from?
Such weariness is passing
of time when it is slow and reluctant.
Such exhilaration when whirling creativity stirs up wells of thinking.
What day is this?
Today is the day something wonderful will happen...that's what day it is.
ReplyDeleteThat is the best answer ever.
DeleteBoth days can sure be had, but I can make them go by fast with a little writing. Something always in my head to write.
ReplyDeleteYour head would be an interesting place to visit, Pat.
DeleteA fast day today
ReplyDeleteI believe so. lots of places to go and to see.
DeleteI'm so short of time lately. Not even a minute to look behind the sofa and see if I lost some there.
ReplyDeleteI am afraid to look behind or beneath the sofa. Or under the kitchen sink.
DeleteNot only do the days stretch or shrink - the hours within them do as well.
ReplyDeleteI try and start each morning with a quiet (and slow) absorbing of the dawn chorus, and take time out at sunset as well to wonder at the beauty of the sky.
Well said. Taking the time...that is the important factor.
DeleteDear Susan, this is the day when you write an image that just captivates me: "Some days whiz by, with sunrise almost meeting sunset in passing." It's also the day when I realize that with one more day of writing I will finish the rough---very, very rough--draft for the convent memoir. O je jigs and juleps!!!!! Peace.
ReplyDeleteOh, may God bless you as you perform "O je jigs and juleps"!! I would love to see that! And thank you.
DeleteDear Susan, the cats turn away--in embarrassment I think--as I cavort in jubilation around the living room. Peace.
DeleteThis is the day I tell you: you, my friend, are a great writer. I wanted more. Why did it have to stop? Where did the time go, the few precious seconds (minutes?) I spent reading it this time analogy/musing. The time when creativity stirs up wells of thinking is the best, second to time spent making memories with family. If only we'd get more such time.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful post, Susan.
From an excellent writer as yourself, this is a delicious compliment. I don't know what got into me as I wrote that; it just felt right, and resonated.
DeleteToday is the day I decide to take back my Saturdays, so chores can be done each in their turn without having to hurry because I have lost hours to the computer.
ReplyDeleteLost hours to the computer...that is very true. The computer is far more rewarding than scrubbing the tub. Saturdays need to be held like a piece of cheesecake or a visit to the nursery.
DeleteThere just never seems to be enough of it.. no matter what we do. Nicely expressed.
ReplyDeleteTime is a precious commodity absolutely.
DeleteThat's lovely Susan. My column in today's paper (which I will post tomorrow night on my blog) is about the passing of time.
ReplyDeleteIt seems it think about that a lot the older I get.
R
I think you and I are about the same age. The events and various things remind me of my own. Looking forward to reading your post tomorrow.
DeleteTempus fugit
ReplyDeleteI used to love that phrase. When I was young everyone HAD to take Latin now I never hear of anyone studying Latin.
I like your words. I would enjoy having one of those days that "stagger" again. I don't think I've seen one since I was young. What a pity.