“A Clockwork Dream”

The clatter of clockwork and cannon fire
Cuts through the chatter as bells ring the change.
Oh, what a joy to see old friends again,
Even if only in dreams, not in life,
And see that God has given them success
Amid the peril, glory, of that place
Where I this Lenten night have dreamed we met.
But oh, how—as in life—my heart has wept
To see how little I in turn may show
For what the Lord’s entrusted to my care
And, with regret as clocks again mark time,
To note the end of our appointed hour.

I wrote this earlier this week, after waking from a striking but particularly strange dream—set in a grand old house with a mechanical clock that marked time by launching cannon-balls from a port in one corner of the room to a port in another, which gave me the opening lines of this.

As always, I earnestly welcome your comments, suggestions, questions, critique, or other feedback about this or any other part of my work. (In other words, if you liked this poem, or you didn’t like it, or it made you think of something, or … please leave a comment to let me know.) If you liked this, you can follow this blog, which includes one of my poems every Friday, or read other poems I’ve written here on my blog (starting with those linked from one of the “archive ” installments, since the full archive is by now, at well over a hundred poems, somewhat daunting); I’d especially like to know, as part of my preparations for a collection, which poems you think are my best. You may also share it with others, subject to my sharing policy.

This poem is also archived on my wiki.


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