when most would begin to rejoice  work’s repose
thursday afternoon
velocity my weeks pace 
twining down   as if

the bed-side alarm clock from 1975  
the grandfather clock in my nonna’s entry
the watch bedecking the wrist of the banker I see from some long ago vantage

sage advice in the timekeepers of old
take time to rewind
or cessation becomes absolute

a sobriety enfolds the week’s ending moments  
while sure-footed conviction still reigns-
it must after all  or what then is left in our hands-
a weight  so densely serious this surity now 
I temper its taunt with flowers
fresh fruit
the tang of a crisp ice tea
the distant siren of the ice cream truck jingle

the week unfolds 
the years though have taught me  a drunken delight  doing will come again