Saturday, August 8, 2015

August Gold-rush






Cold is the gold in coffers
Of miser, merchant-throng
But gold that nature offers
Fills pauper-bards with song

The gold of sun-flow’r beaming
Of black-eyed Susan’s hair
Of wheat-field oceans gleaming
With farmer’s answered prayer

Of sun-sparkle on water
Of morning waking up 
Of summer’s yellow laughter
Caught in a butter-cup

The gold of early autumn
Soft teases walnut-tress
And scatters to the garden
Gold tatters from her dress

The orchard tree is lowered
Gold-bent with fruit of bloom
Where pear and apple-lovers
Wander from room to room

The glint of noon through arbors
Of maple-canopy
The hint of Soon September
The moon on midnight’s sea

The doorway to dusk meadow
The dust of August heat
Dripping with peach-sweet nectar
And dash of sun-kissed feet

The vault that spills with treasure
Of sky and sea and sod
No human hand can garner
For these belong to God

…ah, cold is the gold in coffers
Of miser, merchant, king
But gold that nature offers
Makes bards and paupers sing

© Janet Martin

3 comments:

  1. Janet, this is a stunner. It has truly uplifting beauty in every line.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. thank-you Sara,:) (not sure why my reply the other day did not post??)

      Delete
  2. Oh my. Love this. Don't love the impending cooler weather that awaits, but oh, this warms my heart.

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