Over nine months

from nowhere and nothing,

with my tiny hand I twisted a dial

briskly and it clicked, stopped, turned around

and, imperceptibly, like a pantoum,

gradually drove the pulse of one old base drum

all in motion, deceptively slow

in moment after clicking moment –

until, by autumn, leaves are caught in wind

and days tip forward to December’s end

tumbling, ultimately, nowhere, nothing.