The Unfolding That Now Is...

From this...

...to this, in 24 hrs.

Time’s touch is much too subtle

To be torn from its intent

To run or hide is futile

For its will is dominant

The earth is like a cradle

Where the birth of being cries

The earth is like a casket

Where the leaf of autumn lies

Nature is never stubborn

And it does not fight the hand

That fills its fleeting fortune

Then gathers it up again

The wind, ah, who can see it?

Or deter its phantom course

Its evidence as public

As tick-tock’s triumphant force

This place of transient holding

Teaches seasoned Chasers this;

Time’s touch is always folding

The Unfolding that now is

© Janet Martin