Comb the air or troll thought’s deep
Scan the sweep of winter-tide
Trace it well for who can tell
Where a poem just might hide?
Linger in the boulevard
As dusk splays its farewell blush
Rise to taste time’s sacred haste
In daybreak’s first fleeting hush
Pause upon the shore of When
Now to Then has eager feet
Soon Time’s new will slip into
Vaults where age does not compete
Savor season-sentiment
Where the off-spring of a clock
Does not wait but strips the gate
Giddy with pink hollyhock
Comb the air and troll thought’s deep
Scan the span that stilly glides
To yon blue; dissect each hue
For who knows where a poem hides
© Janet Martin
Spoken from the lips of a true poet. In thus beautiful world God has fasbioned poems are everywhere. Beautiful as always Janet!
ReplyDeleteYou comment is inspiring:) 'In thus beautiful world God has fashioned poems are everywhere'. yes! and thank-you:)
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