Could we but stitch time, then what would stay
Our hands from being all the clock would know
And ever changing grains of sands’ flow,
To suit our whims to contours of the day.
Could we a seam in time’s fabric throw
What dread calamities might we avert.
Or else, as someone no doubt would assert,
Worse catastrophes we’d come to know.
But wiser hands this stream would not divert
Nor dam nor channelize its normal speed
As if to pander only to our need,
Attempting water’s flow to revert.
Better to let the pace of our days
Securely rest in hands we cannot sway.
October 9, 2022
Garry Breland 