Of Gifted Beckoning

Dawn drapes its cape across the shape of skylines; overhead

The air is like a beaming stair that hails the sun to tread

Its ancient climes where Time chimes New Day's ethereal belfry

Then drains its zest from east to west since God said, ‘let there be’

Life’s little noise that soon employs its joys and sorrows spills

Beneath the wreath of heaven’s heath to dust-and-trust foothills

Our undertaking aching with the breaking of fond dreams

Still God above in faithful love replenishes hope-streams

Grace defends mortal weakness and extends, befriends the pleas

Of wise and humble souls returning yearning on their knees

Lest they become numb to the strum of Gifted Beckoning

Dawn’s shofar blows; Time is a rose above man’s reckoning

The Maestro of each moment orchestrates yon gates of air

His baton spawns to us, (garcons of Here and Now), its fare

Pray we commit to do with it our utter-best for then

Dusk drapes its cape across the shape of Time's Never Again

© Janet Martin