From Ilk Silk-soft...

 The air tonight seemed to vibrate with frog and bird song...

Come, for Time is eager

In its seamless sway

To hurry tomorrow

Into yesterday

Come, while it is spilling

From its willing spree

Ilk of silk soft-sealing

Now to history

Come, before the picture

Of it is held fast

In that phantom tincture

Echoing with Past

© Janet Martin