"Crunch" say the leaves to my feet.

The clock on the bathroom wall is dependable, definite, decided.  

It will tick and tick and tick until it cannot tick any longer.  

The heartbeat of time, I can rely on this and not much else. 

 The seasons are rambunctious and wild; teenagers on drugs in the parks after dark.  Ever surprising are the seasons, they are the children hiding in closets.  The ones that jump out and yell "BOO!" when you open the door.  Yesterday I took a bite of an apple, which I don't even like to eat, and suddenly it was fall.  There are leaves beneath my shoes.  

In a few months I will be surprised by winter too. Snowflakes will fall on eyelashes and the cold will burn me, chill me to my bones. Wet socks and down coats, holidays, vacations, and then April rains.

 It begins again, and the bathroom clock remains the soundtrack. Tick, tick. Time is everything to me.