Thursday, October 16, 2014

Prelude to a Curtain Call


She is center stage and bows
Beneath her a runnel flows
Gentian and milkweed trace
Brawny banks with brittle lace
Applause dies like broken glass
…lies in shambles on the grass

High above, the thirsty sky
Drinks a noon-day lullaby
Ranks of rustling infantry
Guard the slowly-setting tree
Pantomime of polished air
Climbs a lily-dusted stair

Shepherd of ten-thousand flocks
She is weary of wound clocks
Thus she sets at ease her staff
Where a sea of summers laugh
Once the bloom of youth was sweet
Now she rests to rub her feet

Tempests toss time’s one-way path
Everything is aftermath
To what was before; the bloom
Soon adorns its very tomb
Prelude to a curtain call
Is each life; the leaf must fall

© Janet Martin



I traded in my mop and broom for a bike-ride this afternoon; it was a toss-up of exhilaration and endurance! (exhilaration, everything around me; endurance, everything beneath me)
The muddiest stretches I have no pictures of because it took sheer concentration to stay afloat. The quiet,dirt road I like to bike on was churned to a mud path due to large trucks (after rain), hauling in heavy culverts to replace old ones. This project resulted in a detour through a grass field; turning around is not an option on a beautiful, might-be-the-last-bike-ride-of-the-season-day!!
after Bike and I had a bath we both feel better:)

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