When the Hanging Gardens of Babel grew,
I read the heavens for what it knew
to gesture a thing that can't be seen,
with rigid arm and hand so keen.
I have a marked and telling face,
and never rush - I keep my pace.
I'm shy of clouds and the dead of night,
otherwise faced true North I'm always right.
Now given gears I never sleep,
and two more arms are mine to keep.
Sixty to one they each will race,
but twice a day they all embrace.
sundials are among the oldest
time lacks a visible manifestation
has a stationary arm that makes
the hand of the clock
numbers along the rim of its face
always moves at a constant rate
can't work when sun isn't visible
needs to be aligned with true North
mechanical clocks work at night
hour, minute, and second hands
hands move at a 60:1 rate
noon and midnight they align