Monday, December 12, 2016

It is Time

There were blank canvasses in cupboards
Unwritten pages in many journals,
Oil paints in wrapping, as yet untouched.
There were books like notes
On staves, unread on shelves
And dancing shoes under the dust.

There were days of perfect sun
Light, making history on the water,
With an empty bench for the view.
There were jackets needing mending
And clutter building up
In the kitchen, pots, utensils.

There were many buttons in
Grandmother’s box, from the good old days.
Envelopes and stamps as yet unlicked, unsent.
There were photographs set on origami
Paper cranes, from which eyes
Observed the passage of time.
There were guitars in their cases
And a piano, needing tuning.


Take out the canvasses, dear
Today is a perfect day for painting.
Write your poetry and your gratitude
In a journal of your choosing.
Squish your oils on a palette –
Mess with colour, mix, ooze.

Take out a book that speaks
Of places yet unseen, turn pages.
Put on shoes for dancing
To the beat popping the air.
Slow into your time dear,
On the bench made for you,

To satiate your mind with all you care to see.
Take those old jackets down to charity,
The pots, utensils too.
Make mosaic button rainbows,
Write a letter in your leisure;
Then call up the tuner
And peel off the cases –
It is time to make music.

Jenneth Graser

Photography credit unknown

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