Friday, September 6, 2013

While We Were Picking Flowers...

You came so soon; wrapped in the croon of zephyr over graves
And we, caught up within the tune of sunny afternoons
Or rain-song on the garden, or the breaking of the waves
Across the shore, were startled by your sure and subtle swoon

The bark, swelling with virgin bud; with hope untried and chaste
Has borne a summer’s worth of evenings and all its moons   
As passion, wild and wonderful in soft enchanted haste
Drifts to that place where ever still the wanton zephyr croons

Were you already there within the first taste of the fruit?
This tender-sweet awareness of seasons, of Time and age
Did you fill Eve with sudden sorrow as she understood
How swift and silently the song of summer seals its page?

You came so soon; no encore, just a wafting overture
Of echoes where the brink of autumn and winter a-wait
While we were picking flowers, caught in summer’s kind allure
We did not turn to see a hand closing the garden gate

© Janet Martin


Thank you for your visit to this porch. Any thoughts you would like to share?