What do you hold in your mold, little day?
Far on the east you release your first sigh
Touching with gold the low fringe of the sky
Greeting the morning where night slips away
What will you spill to the rill, minute-hand?
Meted in moments of tick-tocking stealth
Flicker of fortune and whisper of wealth
Fought for in trenches beneath love’s command
What will you seal on your reel, little hour?
Ere you surrender your silk to the air
What will we hear on June night-fathoms where
Echoes embellish the breeze in the bower
What will we chase with your grace, tender Time?
Jingle of pocket or treasures of trust?
Soon you return to slumber in the dust
What will you tell ere the evening bell chimes?
© Janet Martin
...as I was about to post this our hydro went out again! What other surprises await this day?...No man knows!