Hands chose to halt upon all faces
Numerals in hibernation
Suspending time and animation
Frozen still near midnight
Every digit waits its turn
Unswept, idle in formation,
Rested, useless at their stations,
While time regains its fight
Paused on play, asleep to hours,
Imperfect planetary rotation
Life still beats in preparation
Given second sight
Movement in the galaxies
Parallels in consternation
Argued routes, black-holed frustration,
Time talks till all put right
Subtle strokes, caressed by cue,
Solitary salutations
Solar shift in ideation
Copernican dark to light
scottishmomus 