AGE OF GRACE

Suddenly, all the clocks fell dead.
Their arms went limp, rigor mortis set in. The front doors blew open.
Those of us inside were finally coming out.
We were sons abandoning our fathers, children
who left the radio on, the faucet running, the oven burning high as they stepped greedily into the sunlight.
It was an age of grace, I think,
and all we could do was pick up and leave.