He died and was buried in the hard ground
of a January ice storm
the few people who came stood with a rigor vivis
not wishing to be there
but having no ready excuse
for being elsewhere
on a day like this
or for a man like that.
There's no perfect time to find there's
no time left to perfect. Even with a new watch I have trouble telling what time it is without you, you who run like clockwork precise down to the second, though not so precisely in my second thoughts.
(c)2012 Jayseth Guberman
from "A History of Interruptions" pp. 33-34