Sunday, November 9, 2014

These Precious Days




When the tree weeps an auburn circle, love
Beneath bleak and barren reach
When the sun is sallow and hollow, love
Over drab, deserted beach
When the people that sprawled half-lazy, love
Are bundled and brisk white-breathed
When thought is a schooner half-crazy, love
On a sea that is silver-wreathed

When dark settles over late afternoon
Like a somber mourning cloak
When the east at supper is full of moon
Or rain where the sky-pane broke
When the land is bleak in the aftermath
Of nature’s grand *magnum opus
And all that is left is a husk-strewn path
Where the wild-bloom of summer was

When banter of breeze saunters through stricken trees
Expectancy baits the day
Like a hush as yon curtains are parted
And an orchestra starts to play
Once more we are gently reminded, love
Of Time’s wafting, winsome ways
Where all that we have here on earth, my love
Are its sweet and precious days

© Janet Martin

*Latin for 'great work'

Winter will pass,
the days will lengthen,
the ice will melt in the pasture pond.
The sparrow will return and sing,
the frogs will awake,
the warm wind will blow again.
All these sights and sounds and smells will be yours to enjoy, Wilbur-
this lovely world,
these precious days...

Charlotte, from Charlotte's Web


2 comments:

  1. This poem and photo remind me of the burial of my brother on Friday in a rural cemetery. I wrote of it in my blog tonight. Only the rust coloured oak leaves clinging to the trees and on the ground brightened the dark rainy day. The last colours of autumn. I like the words from Charlotte's Web. Hope. :)

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  2. Aw Pamela, I'm so sorry. I send my deepest condolences and I'll pop over to see you tomorrow.
    There is so much wisdom woven into the words of Charlotte in Charlotte's Web.

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