Monday, June 23, 2014

Treasure the Measure...

Treasure the measure of summer’s swift pleasure
For at the mercy of seasons are we
Hours are flowers unfolding in bowers
Spilled out in moments whose breadth none can see

Tarry, then bury the past that will ne’er be
Look where a new day is filling the sky
Older, we shoulder Time’s ethereal boulder
Still, virgin moments quicken their reply

Soundless stampede; need and greed bleed freely
Where we seek blessing in spite of The Curse
Humbly, we stumble and fumble; why grumble?
We’re in this together, for better or worse

So treasure the measure of summer’s swift pleasure
Not as a fool loosely spending Time’s gold
Better, as debtor to One we will weather
By His kind mercy what grace will unfold

© Janet Martin

‘Getting old is hard’, said the brave, silver-haloed warrior and I knew she referred to far more than physical ailment. Life can hold its keenest disappointments until we are old, but its return is a softer and more gracious love for others if we allow grace to work its wonder.

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