The click of a sundial


Billy Collins is one of my favourite poets, his poems are easy to read yet often contain surprising views of everyday experiences. I have recently started reading his book Picnic, lightning which was published in 1998. Yesterday morning I read the poem Picnic, lightning and loved the final stanza:

and all I hear is the rasp of the steel edge
against a round stone,
the small plants singing
with lifted faces, and the click
of the sundial
as one hour sweeps into the next.

A Dog on his Master

As young as I look,
I am growing older faster than he,
Seven to one
is the ratio they tend to say.

Whatever the number,
I will pass him one day
and take the lead
the way I do on our walks in the woods.

And if this ever manages
to cross his mind,
it would be the sweetest
shadow I have ever cast on snow or grass.

by Billy Collins