Today it hovers in sleet-soldered mist
Lovers must flee to cafes or else don
Goulashes and raincoats to be out-door kissed
Mothers rock babies; noon stretches and yawns
Into the hour that drips through a sieve
Where noon spills its flower; a rose-bud reprieve
Poised between morning and fall’s early eve
Noon is a summer siesta, though now
We watch as slushy rain-snow drops unfurl
And suddenly it is noon-day long ago
Where this wizened woman is a wee, winsome girl
And I want to press my face hard to the glass
To catch all those droplets of time as they pass
Over my lips to a river of grass
Noon is a ship that sails out to the sky
Where soon the dark lowers its mast to eclipse
Another today to past’s sweet by and by
While still sable moments slip soft o’er my lips
Its kisses like honeycomb sticky and sweet
Its echo like snowflakes that melt at my feet
Its passion like noon where dark midnight runs deep…
© Janet Martin
I’m not sure I’ve ever written a ‘noon’ poem. I realized
today that often I anticipate its little reprieve to snack, read and/or write.
And midnight, I often refer to as my night-noon ;)
If I lived in the city I would seek out a café; I like rainy
day crowds. I’m thankful for the men and women who died so we may ‘like’ all
those things easily taken for granted; such as peacefully chopping veggies
tugged from pure, untainted garden soil, like waiting for our kids to get off
the bus, (not waiting in refugee camps like some other mothers). We have the
luxury of grumbling about silly things like dust and laundry mountains when
really, we would want them if they were torn from our hands.
Take the time to reflect and
give thanks today and to pray for peace in our country, in our world, in our homes.
