...they sent me this picture this morning 'the cooks in the kitchen'. It'sfrom a group of some old, some new friends after a Christmas Dinner we hosted for them yesterday evening. Now its beautiful moments are nothing...but precious memories. (off to peel potatoes and host dinner #2 today) Our friends, home from India are coming for lunch so we are looking forward to what today's moments hold...
The quiet will of moments has its way
The sojourner within its subtle clasp
Endures its offerings of gold and gray
As restless threads slip through our fumbling grasp
Darling, the wind tonight is blue and brusque
It rakes its talons ‘cross the frigid pond
Obliterating the moonbeam on its cusp
Pushing to an intangible beyond
Where summer’s past and future intertwine
As surreal dreams and echoes coalesce
Its boasts of air are neither thine nor mine
We reach in vain for illusion’s caress
While we surrender to the startling touch
Of ticking clocks, of falling flowers and such
The portend of a moment soon is null
Bleeding un-severed, joy and grief’s context
Corralled into a day; when it is full
It scales a phantom gate into the next
Darling, the hour does not reimburse
Its squandered breadth, nor is a glimpse unveiled
Of Time’s extent; this dust-spun universe
Cannot fathom eternity exhaled
Where moments in ethereal magnitude
Will never be; no hour, day or year
Earth’s numbered measure will our thought elude
As we pass from this noon-to-midnight sphere
Across the field the skyline silhouette
Yields to a little season’s pirouette
The bridegroom hungers for his precious bride
But he cannot pluck moments from Time’s clutch
Nor can a mother quell their ceaseless tide
As children scatter from beneath her touch
Darling, the air is charged with sweet suspense
For who can know what loiters in the mist
Of opportunity and recompense
We are young lovers waiting to be kissed
As we, God’s floods of wonderment embrace
Of sunbeam smiling soft against the cheek
Or heaven’s tears in metaphors of grace
Fill us with awe until we cannot speak
Outside a snowflake wafts then disappears
Like moments drifting softly into years
© Janet Martin
The quiet will of moments has its way
The sojourner within its subtle clasp
Endures its offerings of gold and gray
As restless threads slip through our fumbling grasp
Darling, the wind tonight is blue and brusque
It rakes its talons ‘cross the frigid pond
Obliterating the moonbeam on its cusp
Pushing to an intangible beyond
Where summer’s past and future intertwine
As surreal dreams and echoes coalesce
Its boasts of air are neither thine nor mine
We reach in vain for illusion’s caress
While we surrender to the startling touch
Of ticking clocks, of falling flowers and such
The portend of a moment soon is null
Bleeding un-severed, joy and grief’s context
Corralled into a day; when it is full
It scales a phantom gate into the next
Darling, the hour does not reimburse
Its squandered breadth, nor is a glimpse unveiled
Of Time’s extent; this dust-spun universe
Cannot fathom eternity exhaled
Where moments in ethereal magnitude
Will never be; no hour, day or year
Earth’s numbered measure will our thought elude
As we pass from this noon-to-midnight sphere
Across the field the skyline silhouette
Yields to a little season’s pirouette
The bridegroom hungers for his precious bride
But he cannot pluck moments from Time’s clutch
Nor can a mother quell their ceaseless tide
As children scatter from beneath her touch
Darling, the air is charged with sweet suspense
For who can know what loiters in the mist
Of opportunity and recompense
We are young lovers waiting to be kissed
As we, God’s floods of wonderment embrace
Of sunbeam smiling soft against the cheek
Or heaven’s tears in metaphors of grace
Fill us with awe until we cannot speak
Outside a snowflake wafts then disappears
Like moments drifting softly into years
© Janet Martin
- See more at: http://anotherporch.blogspot.ca/2012/12/the-drifting-of-momentsa-sonnet.html#sthash.ZFRrl73U.dpuf
