I used to sleep so well and heal so fast,
and what was then I thought would still be now,
for I’m as much myself as I was last
December 31^st. I don’t know how
the hour hand that I cannot see move
yet circumscribes the dial twice a day.
Perceptions miss what new positions prove,
and noting nothing doesn’t make it stay.

The farmer’s son may daily lift a calf
and reason that in time he’ll hoist the bull
that calf will be, but ere the creature’s half-
way to mature, the boy can no more pull
him up than I can see a flower grow,
or calibrate in me the change I know.