November Noon

Today it hovers in sleet-soldered mist

Lovers must flee to cafes or else don

Goulashes and raincoats to be out-door kissed

Mothers rock babies; noon stretches and yawns

Into the hour that drips through a sieve

Where noon spills its flower; a rose-bud reprieve

Poised between morning and fall’s early eve

Noon is a summer siesta, though now

We watch as slushy rain-snow drops unfurl

And suddenly it is noon-day long ago

Where this wizened woman is a wee, winsome girl

And I want to press my face hard to the glass

To catch all those droplets of time as they pass

Over my lips to a river of grass

Noon is a ship that sails out to the sky

Where soon the dark lowers its mast to eclipse

Another today to past’s sweet by and by

While still sable moments slip soft o’er my lips

Its kisses like honeycomb sticky and sweet

Its echo like snowflakes that melt at my feet

Its passion like noon where dark midnight runs deep…

© Janet Martin

I’m not sure I’ve ever written a ‘noon’ poem. I realized today that often I anticipate its little reprieve to snack, read and/or write.

And midnight, I often refer to as my night-noon ;)

If I lived in the city I would seek out a café; I like rainy day crowds. I’m thankful for the men and women who died so we may ‘like’ all those things easily taken for granted; such as peacefully chopping veggies tugged from pure, untainted garden soil, like waiting for our kids to get off the bus, (not waiting in refugee camps like some other mothers). We have the luxury of grumbling about silly things like dust and laundry mountains when really, we would want them if they were torn from our hands.

Take the time to reflect and give thanks today and to pray for peace in our country, in our world, in our homes.