Like honey-suckle of summer
Soon this little day will lie
Beneath the shrouds of winter
And December’s lullaby
Like snow upon the fallow
Melting in the high-noon sun
This day slips to the hollow
Where all life’s moments run
We rise, but to surrender
No one can flee or steal
Time’s portent from the fingers
Of the Potter at the wheel
The orbit of each season
Like all things living must
Relinquish transient reason
Returning dust to dust
Like the wick of a candle
Illuminated by a spark
Before the puff of winter
Snuffs its light and it is dark
© Janet Martin
Gorgeous imagery. I love the structure of this.
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