Where Shadows Slant...

Oh, precious time, it ticks away

In gentle, subtle moment-sway

A little gold, a little gray

The jewel with the stone

A moment never pleads its case

Or begs its offering to erase

Each breath; a tender gift of grace

Until its gasp is done

The branch that bears the bud unfurled

With subtle nudge is probed, uncurled

It plays its leaf-song to the world

But soon the chill winds hail

The stem that spilled its florid mirth

Sheds its leaf-song back to the earth

Until the season of re-birth

Beneath sod’s umber veil

Oh precious time of ribbons, curls

And all those things of little girls

Methinks a moment twirls and whirls

A sly, arabesque thief

For soon a lovely lady stands

To gaze a-flushed, at wedding bands

And still moments slip through our hands

In soundless disbelief

Oh precious time, sweet, silent rush

Of dark pine etched against the blush

As twilight’s keen, clandestine brush

Obliterates the day

Oh precious time, sleek cormorant

Devouring in tick-tock chant

The light that falls where shadows slant

Then slowly fades away

© Janet Martin