Friday, September 21, 2012

A Blissful Madness

The hour is mad with possibility
As summer drools against my window-pane
Strumming the leaf-notes of the maple tree
Its music trickling into life’s mundane
Where duty wields its tried and tireless force
And wander-lust, clad in golden day-dream
Bids me to stray from labor’s staid discourse
To wander by the woodland’s ambling stream
The scent of farewell rushes to me, warm
Like waves to shore before a summer storm

I‘m tethered to the hand pushing the plow
Freedom, a fantastic and foreign ploy
As landscapes burgeon with the after-glow
Of hope and harvest; living’s grief and joy
Dare I to shirk the rod of humble toil
To loiter in the crook of summer’s arm
While others work; will I collect their spoil
Yet languish where her parting kiss is warm?
Temptation urges my heart to rebel
A tug-of war twixt duty and farewell

Oh, tender bliss of love; sweet rivers run
Toward the stream where darker waters move
But shadows only happen in the sun
And grief can only happen if we love
I care not where I spend summer’s last hour
My mouth is full of her wine; bittersweet
For love is a mystic, manifold flow’r
And though I feel her presence wane; retreat
I will embrace the parting tear that flows
Without the thorn we cannot have the rose

© Janet Martin

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