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JAMA. 2009;302(2):126.

	Since this article does not have an abstract, we have provided the first 91 words of the full text and any section headings.

My parents are 176 years old. At least
one clock is visible from everywhere
in their house. A pendulum swings
or a regulator oscillates or the digitals
silently blink. My parents have only recently
considered, being out of time, that
time is all.

I climb from the bed
in the glow of dawn through the blinds,
having shut off the alarm. I prowl
through their silent house in search
of breakfast, and the narrowest
of newspapers. Soon we must agree
to still the pendulum, to turn
the clocks to the wall.

Ted McMahon, MD
Seattle, Washington
tmcmahon@u.washington.edu

Poetry and Medicine Section Editor: Charlene Breedlove, Associate Editor. Poems may be submitted to jamapoems@jama-archives.org.

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