Tuesday, October 17, 2017

Of Easel and Wine Press





My, what a fretwork of artwork we hold
Frames filled with claims, lent by God
Glimmers of cobalt and shimmers of gold
Tickle Time’s trembling facade

Ah, what an awesome Invitation, This
Rife with life’s breath-by-breath ‘oh’
Showers and flowers and hours we miss
And some we kiss once and let go

Duty is beauty in common disguise
Thank He who sends it each day
Savor the flavor where soon noon-day’s Prize
Like footprints in sand wash away

Well, well, we say, then the gray of goodnight
Brushes from sight, window-scapes
Thought traces places naught erases quite
It sips wine pressed from yester-shapes

What are we making of this holy haste ?
Eyes and ears, mouths, fingertips
Say, what will season the vintage we taste
When we lift thought’s glass to our lips

Darling, the arbor is heavy with grapes
Autumn insists on its due
Ah, something stirs; it blurs brawny landscapes
Shattered by silver and blue

© Janet Martin



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