For the last six hours Time's jars are spilling howling gales of ice and snow...
This is what the past few hours have sounded like...ice pelting windows
Time tips the jars that splay the way
Toward a a sure, surreal Someday
That dwarfs this place where people are
And heaven’s myriad of stars
What really counts is often hid
‘Neath what folk say they said and did
Forgetting in Time’s rise and fall
The Thing that matters most of all
So what of minor This
or That
Like where the price of Stuff is at
Soon Time will set its charges free
In exchange for eternity
This boulevard of howling gale
Of sun that sets and ships that sail
Tips us toward a common goal
Where earth enfolds all but the soul
© Janet Martin
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I hope you enjoyed your pause on this porch and thank-you for your visit!