Tuesday, April 19, 2016

Of Fresh-spun Threads...and What They Weave






The cloth of night to day
From moment-metered loom
Unfolds from reams into a grave
That no one can exhume

It weaves with fresh-spun thread
Discourse of daily path
Yet, our footsteps always tread
On Yester-aftermath

Last night is washed to sea
A new day fills its spot
And though each soon is history
The aftermath is not

How careful we should break
From Mercy’s providence
Our portion of Love’s give and take
Impacting every Thence



© Janet Martin





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