Friday, January 24, 2014

A 'Sort-of Parody' to...On Looking Up By Chance at the Constellations

this morning the sky went from this...

to this... this, within 45 minutes.

You'll wait a long, long time for anything much
To happen in heaven beyond the floats of cloudRobertFrost

…ah, perhaps,
but this sky-dome bears witness to all human plight
Sparking the hunger in love-songs we write
In the night while the rush of its rain-song is lent
To fuel hugs and kisses and passion’s storm spent
‘Neath the low bars of brooding ere dawn breathes awry
The cocoon of darkness where hope’s butterfly
Wafts to waking wonder; we comb past’s lament
To salvage the best of Time’s sheer filament
For we, peon-masters of mute moment-mirth
Scatter fumbling footprints beneath heaven’s girth
And the floating of clouds; mother’s chasing the hem
Of childhood and girlhood on its diadem
And we cannot wait with eyes squeezed tightly shut
In the hoping of holding what cannot be caught
Save a frame shaped in thought; while the eons of sky
Wait long, long above us; buds break, bloom then die
As four-season circuits unravel their plight
And shrivel to nothing youth’s buxom delight
Yet all the while over vast century-shift
The frigates of Eden’s maiden voyage drift
Blue-gray, coral-gold, white fleets silver-crowned
Sailing on ether oceans uncharted, unbound
Above plebeian passage of cradle to grave
Where all things human must muster and brave
The moods of the sky; planet-stippled wraith
We suffer its fortune of flood, famine faith
Midnight rain, morning sun, noon-aria, nocturne
Beneath aerial awning we live, love and learn
Though we would wait long in the sky for much more
Than vapor flotilla on seas with no shore
Here we are stunned every hour by its song
Where nothing remains what it is very long…

© Janet Martin

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