tick tick tick
time marches on
in mother's words
heard clanging in the ears
like pots and pans
to span the vast horizon
of a memory
cliche in may
or may not
april showers turn to dust
in a west texas spring
while weeds flourish
into wildflowers
and turn to face
a warming sun
spring break
to take
for granted
while taking to the streets
or beaches far away
in dreams of
free to do this all the time
invitations sent
the young one's flee
to autumn's registrations
or limosines
that usher them to freedom
for umpteen years of school
spun fast from
fields of oil
that team with
life and beauty
in a beholder's eye
when he can see
beneath mesquite
and football
and the smell
of money