1.6.24 – haibun…I’m curious about time

I’m curious about time, about needing to be rooted in time. Time…when I step outside to be in nature, to be my true nature does it matter what time it is?

to this tree
always now
dry, wet, or bare

There is an addiction to time. What time is it? When is this or that happening? Like I would be lost without it. And yes, some part of me seems glued to time, made real by time, with a history, a birth date, a not-known-yet death date chiseled into a headstone. Time…an illusion that lets me play this life game here with today’s clothing worn briefly before moving on. Time…the silver-rimmed clock ticks softly from the wall. Time…a wave carrying me along, through, and then back again. Time…a heavy burden I love to step out of with a lazy afternoon spent without a thought of time, nothing scheduled, and nowhere to go–a sweet nourishing timelessness. Time…to the squirrel digging in my garden beds and the birds singing to an everchanging dawn, there is only light, temperature, and invisible links to the earth. The earth turns in and out of the sunlight field and we call it day and night. We call it Monday and a New Year. To the rocks at the edge of the driveway, it is simply now. Always now, and now, and now.

clock ticks on and on
sun comes and goes
rain falls upon garden rocks