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When the Hanging Gardens of Babel grew,
     I read the heavens for what it knew
to gesture a thing that can't be seen,
     with rigid arm and hand so keen.

I have a marked and telling face,
     and never rush - I keep my pace.
I'm shy of clouds and the dead of night,
     otherwise faced true North I'm always right.

Now given gears I never sleep,
     and two more arms are mine to keep.
Sixty to one they each will race,
     but twice a day they all embrace.



sundials are among the oldest
    human inventions
time lacks a visible manifestation
has a stationary arm that makes
    the hand of the clock
numbers along the rim of its face
always moves at a constant rate
can't work when sun isn't visible
needs to be aligned with true North

mechanical clocks work at night
hour, minute, and second hands
hands move at a 60:1 rate
noon and midnight they align