Making the most of moment-by-moment is the most any of us can do!
Yesterday laid a carpet of love-songs beneath thought's touch...
Beneath the fading valor of gold-green and buxom-blue
(Where we with baited
breath anticipated bloom-spun hue)
Beneath the purply pallor of a gallery, gleaned, bound
Thought sifts through echoes drifting like leaves chased
across the ground
…of green-grass streets tattooed with bare-feet pitter-pat,
carefree
Of brook that curled and swirled and chattered onward to the
sea
Where tried touch-taste of ‘let’s not waste a drip, a sip, a crumb'
Melds what we held as 'moment' to forever's yester-sum
The rainbow thoroughfare of Here to There is softly swept
Of all but tattered sheaf where fall is not quite soldered
yet
That freckled, speckled under-tow of come and go collects
What we are so intent upon and no one resurrects
Smooth, gallivanting, tick-tock-chanting play of day to day
(Though we were warned about its quiet clout) glissades away
And where we stood, its baited breath and child-glad cheers
and claps
Are nothing more than journal pages cradled in our laps
…or silver-glimmered murmurs of summer-loved poetry
Ah, by the time you read this Fall will have felled summer’s
spree
And gardens, once a-beam with daydreams slumber-tucked,
song-sheared
And flower-hues we longed for will have flared, dimmed, disappeared
Suave, silk-slippered Seductress, sunbeam-splashed and shadow-lashed
Wreaks havoc in the heart where oft fancy and plain fact
clashed
Where even now she slips her fingers through thought, bitter-sweet
And beckons us to dance upon the sands beneath our feet
...for it is never 'nothing now', that world of what has been
Though it has slipped beyond the reach of touch, it paints a scene
To tease upon a wintry afternoon, the soulful gaze
And prime the heart with baited breath for morrow's yesterdays
© Janet Martin
...and another fall-favorite of favorites poem
