Calling It More Than Day

PAD Challenge Day 30: today’s prompt, write a “calling it a day” poem

The outer edge of almost night etches skylines of dark on light

Its chief appointment of mere air defeats determination’s stare

And we cannot bond to our touch the hour ere time’s quiet clutch

Reclaims its gasp of gifted grace into that phantom holding place

Of history and memory and all that nevermore will be

We are its troubadours where Want’s storehouse of thought implores

To minute-hand and moment-sphere and season’s spitting year on year

This doggerel twixt life and death impresses to each granted breath

The Imminence of recompense trembling in Time’s deliverance

Of black and white and almost night before that first and final Flight

We simply call it Night and Day; this dallying on Life’s highway

Leads not to tombs or holding rooms; its smattering of broken blooms

A testament of greed and need and Mercy for which all men plead

As we tread more than moment-lore to that supreme, Ultimate Door

…how gossamer Time’s gilded string links eons to each evening

© Janet Martin

I was suddenly struck by a surge of Time; its breadth designed

in morning prayer and breakfasts where 

children leave out-grown shoes behind...