Master Maestro (#2)

 I pulled over to take a few snow-shots at a local old-order Mennonite church
when from behind the church came a tractor with snow-blower . 

 The driver encouraged me to feel free to go behind the church to see the beautiful snow on pines...

 The pines framed the resting place of those gone before, with a holy hush....

This poem is a spin-off of the previous poem...(See Master Maestro #1 here) 

Time’s age-old arrangement begets

Estrangement; pink-gold pirouettes

Fall like snowflakes that melt and set

-tle echoes on the air

‘Hello, my love’, New day cajoles

Then spills its farewell-sugared bowls

Through gloves once new, now full of holes

From living’s wear and tear

Darkness recedes, unveils the ‘yet’

That forms what soon shapes retrospect

While slowly we gain new respect

For ways as old as time

Where time is like a Father, kind

Though he can never change his mind

About a song soon left behind

Like a gong’s fading chime

This birthplace laced with guilt and grace

Brushes days like tears from a face

As hungry arms reach and embrace

The matrix of joy; grief

It leads to where soft wind-song moans

Across a plot of rotting bones

Stippled with cold name-engraved stones

Testifying time’s Chief

Come, come, futile to stand and stare

At what we think we cannot bear

The Giver of time's who-what-where

Cradles its fragile nod

Look, look, night fades. We are immersed

In more than it may seem at first

The death to which this flesh is cursed

Opens the gate to God

 ©Janet Martin