Waiting, like a Woman

Perplex the wall-clock that hangs in the sky

Render to winter a warm lullaby

Time is a troubadour teasing with hours

What none hasten; the journey of flowers

Darling, the weather of roses still-waits

Tether the gale that blows cold on gold gates

Then hold me closer; because, after all

Summer is simply the prelude to fall

Seasons are time-petals, soon, soon they waft

White, green or purple in cradles aloft

Gossamer free-fall, life’s brave bittersweet

Soft like snow-madrigals, melts at our feet

We will not hurry what we cannot keep

Then let that wall-clock spill ill-will, knee-deep

Then, let those wily winds fiddle and fuss

Love knows no season but one, darling; us

© Janet Martin

On one hand I find myself saying, ‘hurry up winter’ and then suddenly, on the other hand I’m pleading, ‘time slow down, you pass too fast!’