Saturday, September 17, 2016

Of Summer Almost Spent...




 I felt a sudden, strange kinship to these bowed blooms...

The art of summer almost spent
Teases the heart with discontent 
For in its vent of green and gold
We sense anew what none can hold

…and often pause, soft torn between
The laws of hope and what has been
Past’s dynasty of dormant years
Like empires built on sweat and tears

The salt of it still stings the tongue
…we didn’t feel, when we were young
How suave love’s raw bravado seals
Life’s Brigadoon to yester-reels

Or how the touch of thought can stir
Remembrances of him or her
Before the roar of stilly night
Or slip of day drew them from sight

The blue sky wears fretwork of green
…soon autumn’s red and gold will wean
The tree of easy lilt and sigh
To silhouettes of days gone by

The art of summer almost spent
Becomes a burnished testament
Of laughter-laden echoes strewn
Like husks on a lost afternoon

© Janet Martin

Wishing you a Saturday full of wonder in unexpected places:)

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