The Ides of June smile and slip through the deep green-laden
tree
The tides of peony and lupine sail to memory
Wait, wait, the won’dring poet pleads with pen still poised
to snare
The pictures of summer’s first love fading into thin air
The fond farewell of friendships is akin to flowers spent
Then lingers on our thought the glad remembrance of joy lent
For pleasure does not always pour its measure in a rose
But when it does we treasure it for soft its season flows
Love fills our calendars with appointments that we must keep
Wait, wait, the busy poet pleads where June days wake, then
sleep
Its blessing like a freefall of contentment, bittersweet
Where joy lent sheds its moments like petals beneath our
feet
Somewhere a land flows with red rose and little girl and boy
It gathers in its kind caress the echoes of lent joy
While, all the while the smile of God refurbishes the deep
Where bud of bloom and being offer new echoes to keep
© Janet Martin
"Wait, wait", I pleaded as the calendar startled me with realization
that we are over halfway through one of my favorite months!
One of the little girls I babysit just completed junior kindergarten and announced 'the reason that summer is the best season ever is HOLIDAYS!!!'(do 4 yr. olds already think that?;)) 'but winter is a good season too', she continues, 'because
winter makes Christmas and then we get to celebrate Jesus!"
Well, how does anyone top that? I ask of you
A little child surely does lead us old fogies:)
Five little children here today to lead me;-)
My calendar startled me today, too :)
ReplyDeleteSummer's flying by faster and faster with each year.
Agreed...another decade older and I'm sure I'll wonder if summer even happened or maybe that will just be my ever-failing memory!
ReplyDeleteWell, the last of the five kiddies just left and now I need to mop, clean windows and cut the grass before it's dark:)
Superwoman! :)
ReplyDeleteno, more like a super-tired :-0
DeleteLovely words. I loved the poem
ReplyDeleteAnd yes, the little ones are so interesting these days.
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