Of Holds

 Thank-you Lord, for common toil's backdrop...

After a few months of mostly gray mornings we re-appreciate time's gate of universal gold...

The backdrop of life’s toil and spoil

Is metered, gold with gray

The fabric of earth’s season-glove

Oft steals our breath away

This hope-filled haze that metes out days

Of wonderment and woe

Bolsters love’s ache of give and take

…hold precedes letting go

We hold the dream that holds the gleam

That folds from Whence to Thence

We hold the child before Want’s wild

Wind echoes recompense

We hold the thought that turns to ought

That turns to word and deed

We hold the root that holds the fruit

That holds another seed

We hold the tool that tries the fool

But hones the wise man’s goal

We hold the frame that holds the flame

Of the eternal soul

We hold the day where gold and gray

When its fortune is spilled

Returns to ash beneath the dash

And splash of footsteps stilled

© Janet Martin