The Archaeology of Time by Oonah Joslin I’d stepped outside the day that time stood still. A bee in the garden was suspended mid-flight over a forget-me-not its blue face open to the deep sky. I saw the moment freeze the breeze break the shudder of all things cease. Time beneath our feet above our heads moves in us through us. No shadow moved across the day and no leaf stirred. The blackbird’s beak swallowed its sound and all around I saw the bones of time evidence its archaeology. Time resides in mystery tesseracts, fractals, twists like a Möbius strip where red ants crawl in lemniscate. Sound’s silenced light stretched the smell of death and taste of long deleted stars. Gyroscope Review 37 !