Wednesday, July 30, 2014

A Blip of Blue and Gold...




('Mom calls these sparkles five o' clock diamonds' I heard Victoria explain to Emily yesterday as they looked through our vacation photos)
July always seems like a blip of blue and gold...

These daily deaths, shrouded in season-song
Clothes our imagination first and then a sigh
Ever the imminence of time’s good-bye
Trembles. We hear it where the cricket-throng
Heralds the gloaming; creek-beds flow with bloom
Of chicory, chamomile, Queen Ann’s lace
Our walk-ways to farewell wend where fern plume
And wisteria frames fortune’s resting place
But we are on the path, not at its end
This is the time to laugh, live, love, my friend

The wood-length weeps; we hear it where the wind
Washes through knee-deep green or bends the bough
Of apple-orchards; suddenly the mind
Is keened with affection and letting go
Did not but yesterday, the violet burst
In starlet-purple waves across the mud?
Yet we dashed hunger-shod and dream-immersed
Where soldiers baptized gardens with their blood
Nature is not detained by our wars
See how the night is overcome with stars

The doorway to a new day swings ajar
And we do not remain glued to its gate
For this is where life’s fullest wonders are
…not in the things of thought while hours abate
But in the here and now, the bleeding bud
And barefoot bliss, sweet summer’s crown of days
Unfolds its fathoms while mute mem’ries flood
Our eyes with happiness; ah, nothing stays
But daily deaths; life’s laureate enthrones
With echoed breath Time’s virgin stepping-stones

© Janet Martin




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