At 2 pm, doves coo
an afternoon lullaby —
drowsy ticking
drowns out work —
the clock’s face
and leaden hands
fall napping into
the hour’s warm lap —
minutes nod off and
sleepy seconds snore
digesting noon away —
time teeters —
its breathing slows
weighed down by
heavy parts of day —
—Terri Guillemets