rolls over wood fibers, startles my sight
into the first object bought in a country
not my own, but stayed for years
in this clock.
Can it show the ticking of a year,
of years coming lately back?
The hand of a minute now
absorbs this country.
How a minute hand carries
with it no shadow at all.
1 comment:
...in a country not my own...ahhh, yes, we know this well. "As a human being, I have no country.
As a human being my country is the world."
revised version of V. Woolf by M.Eve
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