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Associations
by Ken Shiovitz There is
something that I see, A little
bird song showed to me, About the
rules that make us tick As hit a
softball with a stick. And how the
tick precedes the tock, As measured
by tooth on gear of clock. And how the
hands go round and round, But never
can go up or down. And then
comes Daylight Savings Day, The clock
must change, but just one way. Hands jump
forward, later back, But never
up or down, in fact. Yet serves
its function by its rules, The minute
hand knows not its tools, Just moves
around that circle face, And leaves
itself no single trace. But look at
hour hand to see It moves
almost imperceptibly. Starting at
one, minute hand-circle is through, Now hour
hand magically is pointing at two. |
