Dawn draws darkness from our windows
Where dusk drew its shutters tight
Through the latticework of limb-frames
Morning fills Time’s bowl with light
And we, merchants of its measure
Cannot pocket heaven-gold
Tithed alike to all, this treasure
Spills freely from mercy’s hold
Will we waste or handle wisely
This allowance of God’s love?
This is not mere nature-notion
Drenching pasture, street and grove
Dawn draws darkness from our windows
See the sieve of mercy sift
Gold-gray nuggets shaped in moments
To we, merchants of Time’s gift
© Janet Martin
As you have likely noticed, this is the window from which I purvey
each day-break. This morning flung a rampant river of gold, in spite of
FREEZING cold!








