With Slower, Sweeter Yen...

With slower, sweeter yen then let us dare

To climb where Time invites the limb to wear

Its colors preordained and none of us

Are able to evade its touch because

There is no detour round the ticking clock

Of spring-to-summer, fall-to-winter block

What derelict response to disregard

The edict of a Hand wiser by far

We cling to strings and tatters; summer’s rose

Is destined as are we to Death’s repose

The rubric of a thousand schemes is vain

Come now, tis futile to kick and complain

With slower, sweeter yen then let us drink

The ink of present-tense before the pink

Of slumber-set embellishes the west

And we relinquish it as the request

Of what is yet to be rouses a storm

Where we are subject to its moment-form

God’s pen is double-edged and deep and wide

Earth turns beneath His pledge of season-tide

Where we, His most beloved trample Time’s dirt

And often rush headlong into its hurt

Where there are no refills; dawn spills again

Come; let us drink with slower, sweeter yen

© Janet Martin

Almost breathless with anxiety I purveyed this week’s long to-do list

and almost missed the sun as it kissed life’s highway with gold

before climbing into its sky-yonder blue where every to-do list will melt in its hold…