Transitions...(A Mother's Misty-eyed Musing)

Because I am a new gramma and because I do daycare, 

frequently doors to yester-shores are eased open just far enough to let echoes in...

 

 

Time tilts Her chin and she looks into rooms once filled with child

Before the brush of ‘hush now, hush now’ eased them from Her lap

While through the haste of touch and taste and imminence run wild

She hears upon the night air a young mother’s joyous clap

‘Oh look, ah see, pat-pat-a-cake and twinkle little star’

And while they laughed and played Time laid a gate across youth’s bar

With dance and grin Time kissed Her skin with living’s loving proof

And drew its artwork where Her heart hurts with glad weight of it

While toil and duty’s beauty wove earth’s heaven ‘neath a roof

That housed the kindnesses of ‘learn-teach-let’s just sit a bit’

And as year-hinged-to-year tinges her tear with hints of fall

She traces on the night wind, phrases from Past’s Madrigal

With meeker tread she bows her head and breaks Time’s bread; with awe

She hails the grail that pales the star-struck height of Night and Dream

Time is no brute but an astute deliverer of law

No one escapes the metronome that shapes thought-scape’s requiem

Time tilts Her chin and she looks into rooms with soldered locks

And worlds that tumble with the ease of castled building blocks

© Janet Martin