Time is Precious

Because we know life’s moments flow too swiftly to a sea

And all that will be left of them are bits of memory

Because we know we cannot keep their ethereal appeal

Or clasp too tightly everything we touch and taste and feel

Time is precious

Because we know that seasons blow like chaff upon a breeze

And what is left of highs and lows are simply memories

Tonight the dark of cricket-song and autumn imminence

Presses against the markers of moment-deliverance

…and Time is precious

Because we know that all we hold must be released at last

And every drop of moment-gold will soon be memory-cast

How subtly the Painter paints; His masterpiece reveals

A quiet truth that even youth feels nipping at their heels

Time is precious

Because we know we cannot go to retrieve once again

The hour that has vanished like a whisper on the wind

We touch with reverence the gifted moment in our grip

Because we know how soft and silently they seem to slip

…so Time is precious  

© Janet Martin

The country-side swells with summer's end. 

As I use the word country-side I'm thinking of a lady at a customer-service desk where, as she checked my I.D. she smiled at my address and commented wistfully that 'oh, you live in the country-side' and I replied, 'yes, we do!' It must be so beautiful, she added and I said , yes, it is; and the frustration I was dealing with lost its edge because after we were finished I could go home....to the country-side!