This Carpet Whereon Life Is Lent

This carpet whereon life is lent

And time is held

And seasons spent

Then melded to the framework of

The workmanship of man

Is such a patient sweep of sod

Where hurried feet

And stragglers trod

To greet the handiwork of God

And meet its Master Plan

This benchmark betwixt here and there

Beneath Time’s

Palaces of air

Climbs to the beaming skyline where

Another days unveils its face

While on the street the thrum of feet

In staccato

Percussion beats

The carpet whereon life is lent

Then returned to its resting place

The signature of winter’s tree

Like black ink

Is scrawled intricately

Against the pink of yonder brink

Along the edge of sky and land

The carpet whereon life is lent

A snowflake

On time's outstretched hand

Soon folds the showcases we hold

To dust whereon we stand

It begs one’s thought to ponder then

When we have gone

The way of men

And our shell of wand’ring Bent

Is returned to its place of birth

…the carpet whereon life is lent

Then swallowed up

Its filament

Of gathered days, our testament;

Will we leave anything of worth?

© Janet Martin

 Blessed is the one who fears the LORD always, but whoever hardens his heart will fall into calamity.

Prov.28:14