The Time Calls Poem by AFFAQ NABI

The clock passes, and the time calls, the past is buried,
And future calls, lilacs come long black-eyed Susan
With your pink blossoms, all the mist has away gone.
A throng of abeilles hung upon these; how fairly
They do perform their duties.
the clock passes.
As time calls, glare has spread in
corn fields
After the squalls, a band of hunter birds is racing
Above, in rough winds, I am beholding three little
Girls are moving on a narrow path, talking in their
Latin words, after rain showers
they might be
Going to dig the gucchis, the clock passes.
The time calls; no field is safer the crow calls
To crow, walk carefully through hills or by the
Plains, then call upon all your friends when you
Hunt out some cookies, but be
aware of wood
Pigeons are stealing our bush peas, the clock passes
The time calls, and no one gives thanks to your
Great gifts! God of sparks, a lonely old lady
She recites a holy verse in her broken lamps; it's an age
of 'push the button to call up quick snacks.'
Whether it's made of marble chips or chalk
That doesn't matter; the clock passes, the time calls,
I see a migratory springbok tied to stone walls.
From his mouth I heard a divine call:
'Man is becoming more rude; his cry gave me a severe shock.'
Joy may kiss us all. when we're men of good deeds
the clock passes and the time calls.