the third son of time
yet the darkest of time
in whose wake emergeth the stars
thou hath the ball of fire behind bars.

commonly thou art tenebrous
men in thy presence get slumberous
though in thee evil men find light
and matrimonial neophytes in thee delight.

thou ends a beginning,yet begins an end
to roost sylvan aves thou dost send
giving no clue what the morrow holds
uncertainty finds comfort in thy folds.

to some thou art an unending tribulation
thou art to others a transient reprive
but rainy or sunny days are to thee no limitation
for thou shalt now and forever be