No one knows what time it is
on the Moon. If you plan to go 
you’ll be told to bring your own
alarm, your own metronome, 
and both feet shod 
in boots, if you wish 
to leave your marks on the lunar sand
after you have come and gone.

When you are home  
where there is air, water
and wind again, you will recall
a fine blue-green globe 
viewed from the Moon at dawn.
It was your own beloved Terra. 
Luna is lovely too, but wait. 
Time has a story of its own.

There was a universe before Time began. 
In those days, there was no middle C. No meteors 
fell on the dinosaurs. Oceans had not
yet split chunks of land into the continents.  

After these hours got moving, some 
people—the elderly, but not just them—
complained that Time is overly inclined 
to endings, but that isn’t so.

If what is coming at you
is a hurricane, then Time’s
too fast, too slow 
if it is Christmas Eve 
and you’re waiting for 
Santa Claus. Time the Thief
won’t steal all the gifts, 
nor will he leave them all behind.
 
I think one thing Time
will never do
is change its mind.