chocolate is a verb

colors, flavors, whims and other growing things

clock season…

clockTwice a year, May and July, a parenthesis around the solstice, the sun rises through two sets of high windows at the corner of my living room. A pale square of yellow light caroms off the glass and into the house to illuminate the kitchen clock, brightening and moving downward as I watch: 6:14, 15, 16. The clock’s shadow deepens, a glinting sunspot on its face. As the sun moves — the earth rolls — the reflection passes across the clock, dims again, its edges all blur. Three minutes and it’s gone, an incident, an accident of watching.

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