Friday, December 26, 2014

December's Dying Ember

A somber sort of poetry trickled through the air while I was out yesterday....like December's dying ember.


Tremor of tempest-tune teases the sky
Waning of afternoon whispers good-bye
Murmur of moment-swoon tickles the brook
Ribbon of silver through time’s storybook

Paupers on palace-lawns beneath God’s keep
Wander where the old year yawns half asleep
Summer-spent teasel and autumn-bent brush
Etched on an easel of winter-land hush

Joy’s gleaming trumpet and grief’s tolling bell
Serenade laughter and sorrow’s farewell
Fine intermingling, this gold, gray and blue
Exiling welcome gilds earth’s avenue

Wanton wind ambles through woodland’s lost crown
Moss-on-stone jewels bedeck her dull gown
Nevermore duels with daydreaming bliss
Hunger refuels the want of love’s kiss

December's embers are losing their glow
The heart remembers; a hearth in the snow
Truth's gentle bearing tempers restless youth
Rigid, yet caring where time runs, uncouth

Moments are more than God’s jest ‘neath the sun
Hours, the door to where All is begun
This Grand Before of life’s four-season years
Leads to a shore where all time disappears

© Janet Martin



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