Tonight at Noon (appologies to Mingus)

Now, with the hour close at hand,
the hands moving closer, til one
obscures the other in an understated
changing of the guard.

Now, with merely a tick between
yesterday and today, with neither
din of birds nor chiming bell, no
grandfather gently swaying as a mark.

Now, the unnatural arms to one's side,
pale face ever the same, calm, unmoved,
as tonight becomes this morning, who
is mourning, pale, upset, and stirred?