Tuesday, February 19, 2013

Of Moment-tears





Oh, I am not impatient now
To see the snow slip from the trees
For soon time’s fixed, tenacious flow
Will claim it to my memories
And I no longer beg the hour
To leap into fair middle-June
For I have seen its virgin-flower
Garnish the sweep of autumn’s swoon
And I have heard the echo of
A balled writ of things I love
In sanguine swell a tender tune
Tinctures the knell of harvest-moon

And I no longer fret the day
Or love’s moment-metered pretext
For who am I to dare to say
‘Tis worse or better than the next
For like the snowflake decks the ground
In myriads of gathered gasp
They melt away without a sound
Sand-sparkles slipping through our grasp
Leaving no timeless, tangent proof
And soon the hour that stood aloof
Descends; joy precedent to grief
Winter, the bud of spring’s relief

No, I no longer cling or clutch
To hour-rendered offerings
But treasure, while they grace my touch
Life’s trial-and-triumph sufferings
For who can tell what waits beyond
Raw gale or golden-gilded sweep?
The lily drifting on the pond
Does not divulge its murky deep
And we cannot expunge the wrought
Nor form the future in our thought
But it is ours to smile or weep
Time’s moment-tears we cannot keep

© Janet Martin

'I'm sick of this weather', said Matt, as he trudged out to wait for the bus this morning (the cold more bitter because his sister's bus was cancelled due to the rain-snow duet:) I don't care for this weather either but I no longer desire to rush moments; transparent tick-tocks ever nudging the fledgling nearer to the edge of the nest...


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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!