Wednesday, June 29, 2016

Brigadoon

Today marks the last day of school for Ontario's elementary students, and suddenly I heard the drone of locusts in willow arches overhead where my long-ago summer-girl days disappeared... 
'he-loves-me-he-loves-me-not' 




How large the summer days of childhood sprawled
Beneath bare feet its carefree pathways fell
Toward the future where a daydream called
And lured us from the brook and daisy-dell
Into that yonder due of no return
Where days seem bent on departure too soon
And every now and then we pause to yearn
For childhood’s swiftly-severed Brigadoon
Where, long and lean dusk’s shadows of farewell
Climb to, then through the place where echoes swell



How small the leap from there to here to there
It is hard to prepare for the unknown
Pity the one who has no time to stare
But pants headlong toward a cold gravestone
Though the rebirth of ancient summer charms
Abides; A rose is still a rose, oh my,
And in time’s daily death twilight disarms
With gold and draws its gate across the sky
Familiar panoramas disappear
Into the Brigadoon of Yester-year



We stand upon the centerpiece of life
Tomorrow, yesterday, ah, what are they
But chimerical, historical strife
Time’s most valuable asset is Today
And it will never come to pass again
This spending place of moments tries our hearts
With pieces of a picture, pleasure, pain
Like summer’s day, drops petals then departs
While we master the art of living well
And return to the brook and daisy-dell

© Janet Martin


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