|By Penny Smith|
And days fall like leaves from our tree of life...
Each changes colour between dawn and dusk,
makes a flutter of shadow across the moon's face
before a drift of stardust claims its soul.
But morning sunbeams clothe the tree anew
with furled and pleated leaf-buds made of gold.
A day unfolds according to a plan
held deep within its very substance, hidden.
No prying eyes of those who seek to learn
its final outcome from the start, will make
it give up secrets till the appointed time
for all to be revealed, and so we wait.
And days fall like leaves from our tree of life,
before a drift of stardust claims our souls.
Linked to Poets United Poetry Pantry #64 and d'Verse Open Link Night #7