Not a sun- but a rain-dial, it tells time rapidly, then untells it back again like a rotary phone or pantomime time machine. It pays to listen when it stutters T-, T-, T-, T-, like a furious squirrel outraged you let your garden get so dry. Safer to stand back and watch it whirl its turret machine gun, firing at the sky.
This poem appeared in Geist 118 in a set of poems along with "Umbrella" which can be read here.
