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For some reason, I was reminded of this poem by my father today. And when I thought about it, and re-read it, it reminded me a lot of software. So, I share it with you…

My Wristwatch is Drinking My Pulse

My work persists under the cover of the night
and I lay stone upon color
until they sound right,
and leave it all hanging in the air
like haunted conversation carried by nightwind
through a bedroom window.

Time thrusts me on
and the old enemy
closes the gap a little more each day.

I wonder -
when his hand is finally on my throat -
will my glistening webs endure?
Will I have time enough to spin it all out?

Will that hand close on a paper leaf throat
dry and already fallen
the last gold already gone brown
as the exhausted fire played itself out?

(I know one thing well
no spider spins to catch a fly.
The spider wraps forever in his string
and lives forever in the wonder of his descendants.)

All I ask is a chance to finish the web;
catching things is for fishermen and nets.
Weaving cobwebs in the stars is what I do
and I must hurry

For he’s gaining on me,
and my wristwatch is drinking my pulse.

- Robert DeVoe