I wrote this while trying to mediate the tug twixt what Is and Was
of a busy-beautiful-blur-of-a-summer...
I raid the reaches of my mind to try to find among its
mess
A glint of sea-song left behind to bind my wounds of
happiness
Where like a whirling carousel, faces and places beam and
blur
Like sparkles on a surging swell that washes away sweet
summer
Time makes me feel a bit forlorn while torn between what
Is and Was
This marathon of morn to morn can spark a soulful storm
because
Its days are never long enough when spread beneath an
august sky
While time’s ways, ever on the move always weds hello
with goodbye
…and echoes strewn beneath high noon like petals from a
peony
Or notes that float like red balloons; or medals for love’s
bravery
Where wonder crowns the ups and downs of heirloom-hours
such as these
And hunger drowns in cups of joy for laughter-flowered memories…
…of garden strolls and bowls filled with the fruit where
labour and God meet
Of simple things that makes us feel like kings and queens
with muddy feet
Of green-leaf-shimmer, what’s-for-dinner, pat-a-cake and
stir the stew
Of making room for one more plate, of home-sweet-home’s
more-like-a-zoo
I raid the reaches of my mind to find the font for poetry
Lord, help me never to be blind to what is right in front
of me
Where like a whirling carousel, days beam and blur through smiles and tears
Like sparkles on a surging swell that makes landfall and
disappears
© Janet Martin
