Soon, soon this tent of starry nights
and appetites will fold
Pay Attention, for time's lease
runs out on young and old!
A month ago we were 'pitching our tent' at many never-before-seen-sights!
Whether we are pitching our 'tent' at the Fairmont Le Château Frontenac
or beside the red-dirt roads of PEI
by the harbour...
on a hilltop...
....let's pitch it with purpose because
every single day we pitch our 'tents' on the Never Before!
Upon the scattered remnants of a day, a week, a year
We pitch our tents; the fabric of moments so soft and sheer
Where contentment and discontentment vie and set the tone
That fills intent with humble grace or growl’s grumble and groan
Like flames that lap at kindling, dreams and plans are turned to ash
The morning flares, climbs air-borne stairs and fades on wester’s sash
Time toasts our toes and tweaks our cheeks and noses with its grin
Some wear its extent on their sleeves, some keep it tucked within
This Potential we populate on sites of stone and sod
In spite of toil and test is like a gift we should applaud
God decks its halls with leaf-flecked walls, its floors a gorgeous sweep
Of hill and dell; its awning blue-cloud-clothed or star-frothed deep
…as seasons bloom with what either ennobles or depraves
The fragments of its plume soon strewn across Time’s unmarked graves
Where, on the scattered remnants of a day, a week, a year
We pitch our skin-tent on a God-lent patch of Now and Here
Until earth’s shore hinged to Forevermore unveils The Goal
Each Tent shook out ‘til all that remains is Immortal Soul
And, there is no patent or permit past That Last Vast Must
Then pray the Lord thy soul to save before grave’s dust to dust
© Janet Martin