Tuesday, March 8, 2016

Of Gifted Beckoning





Dawn drapes its cape across the shape of skylines; overhead
The air is like a beaming stair that hails the sun to tread
Its ancient climes where Time chimes New Day's ethereal belfry
Then drains its zest from east to west since God said, ‘let there be’

Life’s little noise that soon employs its joys and sorrows spills
Beneath the wreath of heaven’s heath to dust-and-trust foothills
Our undertaking aching with the breaking of fond dreams
Still God above in faithful love replenishes hope-streams

Grace defends mortal weakness and extends, befriends the pleas
Of wise and humble souls returning yearning on their knees
Lest they become numb to the strum of Gifted Beckoning
Dawn’s shofar blows; Time is a rose above man’s reckoning

The Maestro of each moment orchestrates yon gates of air
His baton spawns to us, (garcons of Here and Now), its fare
Pray we commit to do with it our utter-best for then
Dusk drapes its cape across the shape of Time's Never Again

© Janet Martin




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