Friday, March 2, 2012


The exodus of winter
Becomes spring’s arrival
But we cannot see time’s nimble-soft feet
Or the spawning of moments
As they tumble and trickle
Translucent as wind-song that sallies and sweeps
In ageless anthems
Across ambling waters
Teasing the travel of childhood’s wee brook
Folding to history
Its innocent chatter
Winding through pasture and timber-lined nook

Moments form ages
Yet age is a moment
When weighed in the balance with eternity
Time rolls toward us
From ethereal oceans
Dissolving on shores of infinity
We cannot leap forward
To the unknown before us
Nor turn again to its measure when past
But oh, what a wondrous
Perpetual chorus
Flows from the grace of the First and the Last

Departure, arrival
Mystic paradigm
As springtime evolves into summer’s blue haze
Yet still moments spiral
The essence of time
Forming life’s minutes, then hours, then days
Spinner of seasons
And lifetimes and centuries
Joy and grief rival in pleasure perplexed
Moment by moment
The edge of eternity
Closes the gap twixt this life and the next

© Janet Martin

I looked at these old trees and the ageless brook,
existing in nothing
but a sequence of moments.
How gracious God is...He doesn't shove life at us
in one huge lump, but in tender little moments.
Wonderful nuggets of potential. Even this mighty tree began as a tiny seed.

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Thank you for your visit to this porch. I'd love to hear if or how this post/poem touched you!