The line

The years are numbered with their parts
but seconds and minutes get lost
and broken
up by tedium
on the mat
in the heavy load of dawn
when the grass still gleams
air is cold.

Sound of running
in the mind trying
to switch away
into the heart of it
to move and be still
coming closer never falling
in the push of paradox
over the line.

Jill Jones

If you've any comments on this poem, Jill Jones would be pleased to hear from you.