I haven’t been in tune with Garrison for a while but today’s poem seems to have something to say about where I am…right now.

We’ll never get there,
Time is always ahead of us, running down the beach, urging
us on faster, faster, but sometimes we take off our watches,
sometimes we lie in the hammock, caught between the mesh
of rope and the net of stars, suspended, tangled up
in love, running out of time.

“In The Middle” by Barbara Crooker from Radiance. © Word Press, 2005.

The Writer’s Almanac from American Public Media

Here it is…the middle of February, the kitchen door is open for the fourth or fifth day in a row. I am trying to refrain from kicking the AC on. It’s not the temperature that is problematic, it’s the humidity. As I sit here waiting for the sun to announce it’s time to hit the road and go play in the freeway, I am listening to the springtime sounds outside in my backyard. Redbirds cheeping as they argue over territory, mockingbirds singing the world awake. Hear that…off in the distance…a rooster crows to let us know he is still the worlds alarm clock, even here…even now.

But the poem in the Writer’s Almanac says it all…Here I am running…out of time…spring in winter…a child still, even now, in the autumn of my life…watching the world go by…laying in my hammock…between yesterday and tomorrow…running…out of time…