Touch to Touch...

Eventually it slips away

Like it never existed

Splash ‘o gold or bit ‘o gray

the bitty road that twisted

Through miles we’d ‘druther not’ but must

All are simply dust to dust

Transient, like a bitty bud

That breaks through bark to flourish

Before it tumbles to earth’s mud

Some other dream to nourish

For nothing is a single thing

But links upon an ether string

Touch to touch, life’s moments flow

A swift four-season river

What to what? We cannot know

But trust time’s tender Giver

As we press toward a Goal

Not of flesh but of the soul

© Janet Martin

Snow, blowing snow…that’s the forecast and I think we are all wearying of it. Victoria just told me she thinks we’ll never see the grass again; we will because we know ‘as long as the earth remains…’