Of Moment-gold

 Just think! beneath the snow a whole garden is growing restless!

We dare not mourn though time has torn

Another page from future-sheaf

Where swift we spent the hour it lent

Before it lay to rest its leaf

Yester’s quixotic fantasy

Has etched its little legacy

We dare not weep; from morrow’s deep

We reach to thread our half-spun dream

Not with the past but what yet wafts

To tease the tempest with its ream

A sweet and silent canticle

Unfurls its moment-miracle

We dare not pine for soon the vine

That spilled its swarthy summer bloom

Will warmly wake; its bud will break

Then spill its seed back to earth's tomb

As all the while soft through our hold

We touch the wealth of moment-gold

© Janet Martin