Gold Postcards

Click on image to enlarge..

The yard is like a gold postcard

Its edge awash with sash of sky

That holds the fence that holds the tree

Where morning’s cold blue shadows lie

The afternoon will soon attune

Time’s colors to her bowing form

But now, the yard, a gold postcard

Is etched upon dawn’s sweeping storm

How fair is morning’s virgin air

How lovely is this Gift we have

...its dark to light is far, far more

Than breath-ellipses to a grave

…and opportunity is free

Delivered by angel-express

On gold postcards to boulevards

And yards awash with Heaven-ness

© Janet Martin