Matters of A-Tent-ion

 Soon, soon this tent of starry nights

and appetites will fold

Pay Attention, for time's lease

runs out on young and old!

A month ago we were 'pitching our tent' at many never-before-seen-sights!

Whether we are pitching our 'tent' at the Fairmont Le Château Frontenac

 or beside the red-dirt roads of PEI

 by the harbour...

on a hilltop...

....let's pitch it with purpose because

 every single day we pitch our 'tents' on the Never Before!

Enjoy!

Upon the scattered remnants of a day, a week, a year

We pitch our tents; the fabric of moments so soft and sheer

Where contentment and discontentment vie and set the tone

That fills intent with humble grace or growl’s grumble and groan

Like flames that lap at kindling, dreams and plans are turned to ash

The morning flares, climbs air-borne stairs and fades on wester’s sash

Time toasts our toes and tweaks our cheeks and noses with its grin

Some wear its extent on their sleeves, some keep it tucked within

This Potential we populate on sites of stone and sod

In spite of toil and test is like a gift we should applaud

God decks its halls with leaf-flecked walls, its floors a gorgeous sweep

Of hill and dell; its awning blue-cloud-clothed or star-frothed deep

…as seasons bloom with what either ennobles or depraves

The fragments of its plume soon strewn across Time’s unmarked graves

Where, on the scattered remnants of a day, a week, a year

We pitch our skin-tent on a God-lent patch of Now and Here

Until earth’s shore hinged to Forevermore unveils The Goal

Each Tent shook out ‘til all that remains is Immortal Soul

And, there is no patent or permit past That Last Vast Must

Then pray the Lord thy soul to save before grave’s dust to dust

© Janet Martin