By Peter Walsh

Yesterday?s mongering now gone
And earned idleness at hand,
I sit to scan the mountain?s morn
As Ra begins his flaming brand
Upon all flowers, plants- and man.

Another day presents its plea
To use its time constructively
And ne?re to waste the moment?s plush
Or wonder how to join the rush
That tramples thought and flavor,
And prevents goodly, wistful savor

If I could hold my breath
(Not so long as Death)
but long enough to see...
Would Time then stop for me?

A mere second, a minute please...
To be all mine and not to ease
Away among the flow
That moves to go, to go....

Ah, what treasure then I?d have
To use it like a salve
When the sweep of passing on
Becomes the briefest song?
I?d use that moment then
To live life?s love again.

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