These are Those Days...

These are those days that long taunted our gaze

As we peered through ice and snow-swaddled pane

These are the hours where fancy’s fine flowers

Painted thought-pictures to ditches and lanes

These are the streams that persuaded our dreams

To dig much deeper than mountains of snow

These are those days; holly-hock, high-noon haze

Where birdies bicker and bronze breezes blow

These are those days of iced tea and heat-waves

Garden-dirt grandeur where Time’s bare feet dash

Reeds reaching higher in sluggish quagmire

Leaf umbrellas and rain-song splish-splash

These are those days, blue pavilion, green chaise

Life is a dream and each pasture a park

Fire-fly flashlights and late, lazy good-nights

…we laugh like love-struck teens out after dark

These are those days; brushed with honey-sweet glaze

Silver-dew mornings and star-spangled nights

These are the hours that falter like flowers

Bursting with beauty to slip from our sight

Touch, taste and treasure its fleet-footed pleasure

Pause ere the pattern of clock-monotone

Snuffs the sun-shimmer where sea-diamonds glimmer

Here for a summer then gone, gone, gone

© Janet Martin

“Ah, these are the days we dream about all winter long!” I said to Victoria as we podded peas beneath maple arches strummed by a soft breeze.