Wednesday, December 26, 2012

Pondering Her


My dear, her lissome hem is sweeping
The far-faint, blue wooded rill
I hear her brewing farewell weeping
When the night is deep and still
For she no more than we, my darling
Can suppress her moment-tear
A trickling flow through sundry ages
And we simply call her Year

How grateful, gladly we embrace her
Arms flung wide, we draw her in
Though in brusque autumn’s knell we chase her
Now she comes; Virile, virgin
Across a sleek and seamless threshold
She alights, whilst hope and fear
Mingles wildly; yet we greet her
As we meet her; the New Year

We cannot unclenched her fingers
To reveal her mystery
She does not run; nor does she linger
On the road to history
But she cradles in her bearing
All those things which we hold dear
Joy and sorrow, potent, searing
Yet we simply call her Year

We pause in limbo; past and future
Presses passion to our lips
Yet, all we cherish, fondle, nurture
Soon to her dominion slips
As we ponder our position
…Who imbues her formless sphere
We bow in humble recognition
Gift of grace is she; New Year

My dear, the hour like a flower
Soon relinquishes her bloom
And no one contains the power
To re-live one afternoon
So we treasure the kind measure
Of her tender moment-tear
As she slips through our whispers
…yet we simply call her Year

© Janet Martin

I cannot BELIEVE how swiftly she comes, but to leave
I have learned it is possible to celebrate and grieve

I touch with my thought those I cannot hold
For she steals as she gives, moments seal as they roll

And sometimes as I ponder her perpetual splendor
And sometimes as I miss those sealed in her kiss
And sometimes as tear-tender, I remember

All I can do,
Is whisper
For He blesses graciously and mercifully
To we, undeservedly


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