I Vow Not

I vow not to wish the days away,
Azaela afternoons, pin-straight lilies
strong as giants, new as days-old infants.

I vow not to wish the days away,
Push-pop crinkles, ruddy brown heels, barefoot beauties.

I vow not to wish the days away,
The anticipatory lilac blooms, trimmed last autumn,
spanning fragrance above me.
The trunk’s bark, its foundation grateful.

I vow not to wish the days away,
Long naps and no-nap toddlers.
Blonde mop heads, sticky rose cheeks.
Families like ours in burgundy brick houses.
Families of worms in fingertip-made moss houses.

I vow not to wish the days away,
And yet, they pass away just the same.
One prayer—I vow not speak.
Time is not my own, how dare I ask?
The Time keeper. The Time maker.
Winding and commanding earth’s clock. And my clock.
We are bound to its hands with our ordinary hands.