Moved by the miracles of bloom and birth from earth’s
vast vault of ‘Wow’
It makes the commonest of noons feel like a Masterpiece
somehow
And turns complaint to Shame-on-Me for who are we but
fellowmen
With call to bear each other’s care and make the sad heart
glad again
Moved by the music of the rain that thrums the laneway
note by note
They pelt then melt in mirror-panes and little lakes
where leaf-boats float
Like golden gondolas that seem to drift at ease but
tug-tug-tug
Until the Very Thing that Is slips through the grip of
hug-hug-hug
Moved by the moment always meting so much more than meets
the eye
Something about the clout of clocks makes tick-tock seem
more like good-bye
Or is it hello that murmurs like cello-solos through
ramparts
Where miracles, music and moments tune the tides that
move our hearts
© Janet Martin
Even in the silence we sense the essence of cello-strain...
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I hope you enjoyed your pause on this porch and thank-you for your visit!