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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. |
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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 |
