Heartlands

Stealthy, across the snow-bound heath the dark is closing in

And silence like a frosted wreath muffles the busy day

Ah, Flight of moments, once again how subtly you wing

The hope of morn to noisy noon to brink of yesterday

As pantomime of suppertime and eventide ignite

A fire on a hearth somewhere in heartlands out of sight

From rush to hush the chanting tick-tock carries our feet

We hurry to the harbor of that dearest place on earth

Of wood and stone, oh darling home; though to labor is sweet

Our heartlands pine for family-time and hours round the hearth

And now the dark mounts aerial steep and draws the shutters tight

The hour is a thing of beauty in deep blue twilight

Time’s journey whirls in sanguine swirls and colors on the air

How easily it seems the dark slips over gold-gray-blue

As easily as youth slips through the gleaming raven hair

To taunt the man of middle-age with silver-stricken hue

The convoys of life’s moments melt on heartlands breath by breath

Riding the darkness closing in across the snowbound heath

© Janet Martin

The kids have no idea how much I love that 'gather-round-the-table-time' as I listen to the tales about their day ...