Friday, September 20, 2013

Time is Precious





Because we know life’s moments flow too swiftly to a sea
And all that will be left of them are bits of memory
Because we know we cannot keep their ethereal appeal
Or clasp too tightly everything we touch and taste and feel
Time is precious

Because we know that seasons blow like chaff upon a breeze
And what is left of highs and lows are simply memories
Tonight the dark of cricket-song and autumn imminence
Presses against the markers of moment-deliverance
…and Time is precious

Because we know that all we hold must be released at last
And every drop of moment-gold will soon be memory-cast
How subtly the Painter paints; His masterpiece reveals
A quiet truth that even youth feels nipping at their heels
Time is precious

Because we know we cannot go to retrieve once again
The hour that has vanished like a whisper on the wind
We touch with reverence the gifted moment in our grip
Because we know how soft and silently they seem to slip
…so Time is precious  

© Janet Martin

The country-side swells with summer's end. 

As I use the word country-side I'm thinking of a lady at a customer-service desk where, as she checked my I.D. she smiled at my address and commented wistfully that 'oh, you live in the country-side' and I replied, 'yes, we do!' It must be so beautiful, she added and I said , yes, it is; and the frustration I was dealing with lost its edge because after we were finished I could go home....to the country-side!

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