Friday, May 27, 2016

Poetry Friday: Barbara Crooker, In the Middle

This poem leapt at me this morning. Oddly and justly, only yesterday I looked at the clock on our fireplace mantle, a clock that belonged to my grandfather, and it was 9:20 a.m. I thought, "Oh, I need to wind that. I so often forget...." 

Perfect and poignant, then, for this day, this season, for the elusive hours of our lives. 

In the Middle
by Barbara Crooker

of a life that's as complicated as everyone else's,
struggling for balance, juggling time.
The mantle clock that was my grandfather's
has stopped at 9:20; we haven't had time
to get it repaired. The brass pendulum is still,

(Read the rest here, at The Writer's Almanac.)



  1. Barbara Crooker writes for most of us, I think. This is lovely, Karen. I get shivers from your 9:20 serendipity. Time does go. . . Thanks for sharing!

  2. So very apt for the life of every woman. I have a clock on my mantle, and even worse than you, we never bother to wind it at all. It may be 10:25 or 4: 37 or any other time, all day. I'll have to go look sometime today.

  3. Linda, it gave me shivers, too! :) And yes, Linda and Brenda, apt for most of us.
    Brenda, you could set your mantle clock for your favorite time of day and just leave it at that. :)