Sun Dial, Mark Ellis Cooper, 2007 Sun reached point of equinox; slender fingers search through motes hung delicately in the still air... Shafts of light grasping desperately for freedom of shadows on dais in repose; weed covers rock of ages, half-forgotten amongst overgrown lost, walled garden. Finds target with perfect symmetry; dark casts on mottled copper dial, prompt to lost souls of appointments that no longer serve any purpose. Endure with authority and time, honouring the makers of lost tradition. Forewarns of the essence of fate in verdigris. The march unends on visible face; a roundel defying the advance of decay, old father time attemps to keep moving. Leisurely circles caress ancient pedestal, golden lines connect to far heavens. Symbiosis of three: nature, man and science playing out their perpetual, pointless ritual.