Thursday, December 28, 2017

Sentimental Jargon





Across the field steel-rivers blow
And wield a weapon full of snow
Where supper soup and firewood
Have never sounded quite so good

And I will make a pot of tea
Then will you sip a cup with me?
And shall we gently reminisce
O’er ebbs and flows of That and This?

The Warden of a formless clock
Is turning the key in a lock
That soon will seal the gold and gray
Of twenty-seventeen away

Darling, what have we learned from it
Or genuinely earned from it
Will something in its give and take
Soothe farewell’s sentimental ache

And when on soundless hinges Time
Rings out the old year with a chime
That ushers in what none have met
Will we feel hope or sad regret?

Sometimes it seems to me the years
Are but a succession of ‘Cheers’
With a few baffled blinks between
Cold winter’s white, gold summer’s green

Across the field steel-fingered bards
Shake feather-down on quiet yards
Where supper-soup and firewood
Have never sounded quite so good

© Janet Martin

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Thank you for your visit to this porch. I'd love to hear if or how this post/poem touched you!