The Traffic of Mute Moments...

 It's so nice to see the landscape freshly watered by a shower...(who would have thought we would be saying THIS just a few weeks ago, but we had not had a drop of rain since the seeds went into the ground and it is really dry)

The traffic of mute moments fills a freeway quite obscure

Life’s highway to the sky insists on change; what we procure

Is swiftly stripped and traded for a strange and untried thing

As all the while the flowers smile and summer-yellow’s sing

Time’s veiled eclipses paint the truth of it on brows of men

The Inevitable waits to still the restless, roving pen

While history repeats itself; children grow up too fast

And nothing really changes in Time’s ever-changing cast

How often do our silent thoughts shout loudly to the air?

…as all the while the traffic of Time’s moments spill their care

And youth learns how to shoulder more than human discontent

Where we who are much older learn to bear its consequence

As clenched fists slowly soften and our silent, stubborn clutch

Submits at last Invitations foreign to our touch

The well of want is dark and deep and never satisfied

Until we learn true gratitude, greater than pouting pride

The pen pauses in middle air, its charge too hard to keep

Save for those testaments of ink from poet’s long asleep

…and crowded freeways of the mind must lead to destinies

This futile chasing of the wind will perplex and appease

While sunlight breaks through bully cloud and seasons interlace

With nothing much to show for it but this; proof of God’s grace

As he draws back the night-wind and ignites a wick brand new

The traffic of mute moments sparkles in the morning dew

© Janet Martin