Thursday, July 17, 2014

These are Those Days...






These are those days that long taunted our gaze
As we peered through ice and snow-swaddled pane
These are the hours where fancy’s fine flowers
Painted thought-pictures to ditches and lanes
These are the streams that persuaded our dreams
To dig much deeper than mountains of snow
These are those days; holly-hock, high-noon haze
Where birdies bicker and bronze breezes blow

These are those days of iced tea and heat-waves
Garden-dirt grandeur where Time’s bare feet dash
Reeds reaching higher in sluggish quagmire
Leaf umbrellas and rain-song splish-splash
These are those days, blue pavilion, green chaise
Life is a dream and each pasture a park
Fire-fly flashlights and late, lazy good-nights
…we laugh like love-struck teens out after dark

These are those days; brushed with honey-sweet glaze
Silver-dew mornings and star-spangled nights
These are the hours that falter like flowers
Bursting with beauty to slip from our sight
Touch, taste and treasure its fleet-footed pleasure
Pause ere the pattern of clock-monotone
Snuffs the sun-shimmer where sea-diamonds glimmer
Here for a summer then gone, gone, gone

© Janet Martin

“Ah, these are the days we dream about all winter long!” I said to Victoria as we podded peas beneath maple arches strummed by a soft breeze.  

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