Monday, June 10, 2013

Where Shadows Slant...





Oh, precious time, it ticks away
In gentle, subtle moment-sway
A little gold, a little gray
The jewel with the stone
A moment never pleads its case
Or begs its offering to erase
Each breath; a tender gift of grace
Until its gasp is done

The branch that bears the bud unfurled
With subtle nudge is probed, uncurled
It plays its leaf-song to the world
But soon the chill winds hail
The stem that spilled its florid mirth
Sheds its leaf-song back to the earth
Until the season of re-birth
Beneath sod’s umber veil

Oh precious time of ribbons, curls
And all those things of little girls
Methinks a moment twirls and whirls
A sly, arabesque thief
For soon a lovely lady stands
To gaze a-flushed, at wedding bands
And still moments slip through our hands
In soundless disbelief

Oh precious time, sweet, silent rush
Of dark pine etched against the blush
As twilight’s keen, clandestine brush
Obliterates the day
Oh precious time, sleek cormorant
Devouring in tick-tock chant
The light that falls where shadows slant
Then slowly fades away

© Janet Martin

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