I like the lilt of laughter spilt
From the clock-tower of the sky
Where fluent thrum of moments strum
Life’s hum-de-dum into ‘oh my’
I like the sweep where seasons leap
Like dancers across living’s stage
From over there to over here
My, my, how lithe their promenade
I like the flower of an hour
Hail, fair surprise within time’s bloom
Where soon thy petals waft, silk-soft
To crypts that no one can exhume
I like the shock of tick and tock
It teaches me how to revere
Each fragment of life’s
moments, love
They spill at will then disappear
…and if nothing would ever change
How heavy hunger’s feet would be
A weary plod across time’s sod
Of unrelenting constancy
© Janet Martin
To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
Eccl.3:3
