Ah, season-sweep, how swift you leap
On nimble feet from stone to stone
You spill your fare of faith and prayer
Into the vortex of Bygone
From page to page and age to age
Unknown’s mute metamorphosis
Of what will be… is history
As what we touch, no longer is
Ah, season-sweep, within your keep
You gather little boys and girls
As soft you seal upon your reel
The innocence of un-teased curls
With deft disguise, love’s laughing eyes
Distract us from Time’s subtle ploy
Of yester-yen and making men
Of last summer’s rambunctious boy
Ah, season-sweep, the past is deep
With centuries of your demise
Where bud and leaf and joy and grief
Pass through our touch in moment-guise
From heaven’s urn your no return
Spills; thrilling, filling our reach
With season-ware and painted air
And lessons only you can teach
© Janet Martin
Ah, we cannot reverse the sweep
where Time's tumble-weed seasons sleep...
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I hope you enjoyed your pause on this porch and thank-you for your visit!