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

Simultaneously

I touch with my thought those I cannot hold

For she steals as she gives, moments seal as they roll

Continuously

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

Thank-you

For He blesses graciously and mercifully

To we, undeservedly

J~