Wednesday, February 5, 2014


Stealthy, across the snow-bound heath the dark is closing in
And silence like a frosted wreath muffles the busy day
Ah, Flight of moments, once again how subtly you wing
The hope of morn to noisy noon to brink of yesterday
As pantomime of suppertime and eventide ignite
A fire on a hearth somewhere in heartlands out of sight

From rush to hush the chanting tick-tock carries our feet
We hurry to the harbor of that dearest place on earth
Of wood and stone, oh darling home; though to labor is sweet
Our heartlands pine for family-time and hours round the hearth
And now the dark mounts aerial steep and draws the shutters tight
The hour is a thing of beauty in deep blue twilight

Time’s journey whirls in sanguine swirls and colors on the air
How easily it seems the dark slips over gold-gray-blue
As easily as youth slips through the gleaming raven hair
To taunt the man of middle-age with silver-stricken hue
The convoys of life’s moments melt on heartlands breath by breath
Riding the darkness closing in across the snowbound heath

© Janet Martin

The kids have no idea how much I love that 'gather-round-the-table-time' as I listen to the tales about their day ...

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