Oh-ho life’s wrestling match can press hearts hard against
the ropes
They reel beneath the body-slamming keel of dreams and hopes
Earth’s four-wall ring of seasons binds time’s wounds with
nature’s laws
September’s crickets fling their stippled praises without
pause
Time does not weary; only we who struggle and compete
The countdown of moments urges us back up to our feet
Oh, pray that we fight to the point of blood, sweat, prayers
and tears
Until the gong sounds and the last round of time disappears
Sometimes the ropes that hold us in are green with sheen of
spring
Its referee a peony, flash of tanager’s wing
Sometimes the ropes are cold and startle us and steal our
breath
September’s gold rolls like a brave opponent daring death
Oh-ho, life’s wrestling match can catch a crowd-gazer off
guard
September’s charm sounds an alarm; left-right, soft-step,
now hard
The champion of a challenge does not quit; hope spurs him on
A prize can only be collected when the fight is won
© Janet Martin
