Waking Cronus
Tired lids to buckets of endless hours
open cracks and creaks
and cold saps their strength.
Exhaustion gives
and so do lids
for I was not born a god.
As end to time,
results evade.
Exasperation grasps unthinking.
Sudden shaking, endless quaking;
Axes work upon my trunk and limbs
as children join my garden of dreams.
Growling, grasping and blind,
reaching for those brave souls
-though errant spawn evade.
Yet, a fallen titan,
Cronus, I shall rise again;
a new day has dawned.
Pulleys creak and
levers groan, "Overwork!" they cry,
but work they do as I wake.
One thought I have, a simple dream:
I truly wish that someday
-past dawn
-past six o' clock
-maybe even eight
the kids might deeply, sweetly sleep.
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