Soft Among the Reeds They Wake...

Soft, soft among the reeds they wake

To wander ‘cross the sky

A glimmer on time’s winter lake

Into the by and by

Moon-mellow moments spill to naught

Then daylight tips the scale

Before its blue and gold is caught

In midnight’s mystic grail

From far-off shores to home-front door

This breaking, taking wake

Of kissing you and missing you

Tucks years into its strake

© Janet Martin