It Flies, and So Should I

tick tock, edward lc jung

The winter’s bare branches sink the ridge lines right down to the ground. Time is tricking me with sunlight, but I am still sitting in my bedroom and wishing there was more of it. Then I wouldn’t have to worry that it was slipping by, dragging on, stopping, or winding itself tighter around pocket watches and paychecks. My friend calls to me from my log cabin porch, that soon spring will raise the ridge lines back up and mend all those hillside holes where you can see right through to the roads. That warmer weather means we can sleep with windows wide open and not catch cold. That I have a great big porch, perfect for taking it all in. I can’t always take in time as it passes, not without worrying of what work needs to be done, like my dad on Christmas morning with all those great big boxes to break down…