Tuesday, January 30, 2018

Another Day at Hand


 Finally in the up-right position after a hum-dinger of a flu or something!
I tried to 'feel better' this morning, attempting a slow-bustle for 2 hours from 6:00 'til 8:00;
 seeing everyone out the door with their 'travel-bags' for the day or week depending on the person:)
...then I thought maybe if I write my body will forget its sick, so I did (a little) until it was time to pick up my daughter after her exam at 10:00.
Came home to crash on the couch sleeping off and on for the better part of the day!
I am not a patient patient...so happy to be feeling like I might be on the upswing!



The Weaver of Time’s lariat flings gold lakes across the land
His whisper weaves the chariot of another day at hand
As Mercy metes the Stead whereby we traverse morn-to-night
Partakers of The Grace that rattles faith’s cages with sight

Life’s journeyed miles, hinged to a fringe of fathoms mystical  
Repeats its clock-style circuit, with ne’er two identical
And like wild horses set to race across earth's waking strand
Dawn draws ajar the flood-gates of another day at hand

Its gifted breath before the death of all we touch and taste
Drives us forward; futile to stare at former fancies chased
But on this grin-and-bear-it-win-lose-share-it stricken sand
The rider and the chariot greet another day at hand

Each hour, like a lariat soft-lobbed toward its quest
Cannot lasso the chariot that wheels from east to west
It riles Time’s child a little then discharges its demand
Until it is refurbished with another day at hand

© Janet Martin

Below is version #1 written before the 'tweak'...
sometimes after the tweak I'm no longer sure which version is worse better.



The Weaver of Time’s throughway flings gold quilts across the land
His whisper wakes the wonder of another day at hand
As Mercy metes the means whereby we traverse morn-noon-night
And partake of the grace that rattles faith’s cages with sight

Life’s journeyed miles hinged to a fringe of fathoms mystical 
Repeats its clock-style circuit, with ne’er two identical
Of ‘now we lay us down to sleep’ and now we ‘rise and shine’
To join the jostling on a street of ‘how are you’, ‘I’m fine’

This gifted breath before the death of all we touch and taste
Drives us forward; futile to stare at former fancies chased
But in this grin-and-bear-it-win-lose-share-it, still at hand
The Weaver of its throughway flings gold streets across the land

Each hour, like a lariat soft-lobbed toward its quest
Cannot lasso the chariot that wheels from east to west
It riles Time’s child a little then discharges its demand
‘Til Whispers wake the wonder of another day at hand

© Janet Martin

2 comments:

  1. Do get well soon, friend, and don't do too much too soon!

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    Replies
    1. Thank-you,I'll try to take it easy this week. Victoria is home and unfortunately the little girl that comes regularly is sick as well so at least if it had to be, we timed things out okay:)The little girl had pneumonia and just got released from the hospital today. She is doing much better but her gramma will stay with her for a few more days to be sure. Thank-you again, Sasha, for the kind wishes!

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