The Blue of Time's Candor

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The blue of Time’s candor, like moody fall splendor

Sweeps in from without yet seeps out from within

It courts hurried hours and flings wide-eyed flowers

Into bygone’s bowers of gossamer skin

The blue of Time’s candor compels us to wander

Where summer-set settles, three seasons away

Each leaf, like a pencil, each stem like a poised quill

Spills sun-tattered verses of death and decay

The blue of time’s candor rolls through gated pasture

Its waves washing heart-ward with echo and whim

An ethereal ocean rises in slow-motion

It ravages laughter and landscape and limb

Time’s blue traipses over rose-rivers of clover

It unravels rainbows; blue will have its way

As sun-warm reflection dons cooler complexion

And blue of time’s candor turns gold silver-gray

© Janet Martin