POEM: Even life’s poetry drifts

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Life is a timepiece that sometimes runs slow

When eyelids grow heavy, and sunsets droop low,

And when canopies bend in the heat of a day

As birds sleep on branches with no more to say,

Even life’s poetry drifts with a sigh

On deep silvery waters that wander on by,

And the hours weigh heavy on skies of deep blue

For the clock needs rewound before life’s dawn is due.

When the air is weighted with the perfume of dawn

When diamond lit dewdrops carouse on the lawn,

And when flowers wait closed for the warmth of the sun

Then we know that the morning has not yet begun,

Though birdsong is threaded through echoing leaves

There’s so much to be learned as the birth moment weaves

Every sweet sparkling lesson and intimate prayer

On the cloud manuscripts for each whisper to share.

As the morning breathes quietly translucent dreams

Soft green meadowland wishes are carried in streams

To wherever a wish needs completely to be

As it journeys along on its way to the sea,

And a fawn pauses briefly to drink from the flow

Then blends into the forest’s beige, another rhyme, another page,

And the clock kept ticking through the hours

Through sunlit haze and Summer showers…

Keith Robson

Ashington