Of Green and Gold and God

Behind facades of gold and green,

Of fields bathed bronze in early light

Or season-tides that surge unseen

Disguised as morning, noon and night

Within life’s little tick-tock share

Of hurt and hunger, laughter, grief

We stretch our hands but cannot snare

The nuances which fill Time's sheaf

The clock strikes twelve; another year

Slips soft into the atmosphere

The canvas where we oft laid bare

Love’s stunning attributes of trust

Its ravishment of hope, despair

Its pinnacles of want and must

Is snuffed by nothing but the chime

Of midnight and while wise men sleep

The subtle dictation of Time

Claims one more year within its keep

Futile to clench or shake the fist

We cannot cling to moment-mist

Is life but extolment of prayer?

While dream-slayers and sages vie

We stumble, fly and soon stand where

Another year whispers good-bye

Spring’s bully-green is winter-white

And youth, ah youth is borne away

Upon this morning, noon and night

And vapor shaping yesterday

Blessing and burden coalesce

To teach us trust and happiness

Ah, see the sun rise from the trench

Of twilight on a beach somewhere

Mercy and love’s compassion drench

Morning; ‘tis more than scripted air

And we are more than young and old

Marching toward death’s ether clime

Where history is but the hold

Of tick-tock chant and moment-mime

This green and gold season-facade

Unfolds the road that leads to God

© Janet Martin