Saturday, July 2, 2016

A Blip on the Mother-ship of Earth





Time is a straight tunnel
A surge of dark and light
Morning finds the funnel
That drains it back to night

We, pulsing ellipses
Dot our plot of sod
Mute moment-eclipses
Move us back to God

Sunlight sets a-quiver
The harp-string of lark
Soon its golden river
Is snuffed by the dark

Performance of people
Wedge twixt earth and sky
 Climbing up a steeple
Where past-people lie

© Janet Martin

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