Talking in terms of time

I can talk in terms of housekeeping,
its potential to mesmerize,
of making lists of things to do,
and of children who defy terms,
one, two, three and four,
whose earth for mothering
I was, however minimally.
I can speak of metaphor, symbol,
and tall trees reaching for heaven,
but I cannot talk of time,
of years where nothing holds
although calendars try, clocks tick,
astrology charts and prophets prophesy.
But a day’s reality against an aeon?
Invisibility supporting a day?
Maeve’s thimble a spill of faery dust?
That which knows is not saying.
All time ever says is, “Wake up!”