Time's Sieve

Beneath a tall magnolia I sat And watched the slender birch trees oft caressed By wind and sunny tenderness, and blessed With quiet air above the grassy mat. Beyond the trees, a tall Artesian fount Would pour its misty sprinkle on the lake, Where turtles basked before the sun to take The pulse of Pan’s calm heart, in restful count. An aged and stately yew concealed a thrush Whose rapturous refrain enticed the ear And voiced a call his fellows to endear And spot new friends within the covert lush. The rueful reeds esconded waterfowl Who watched in slumber o’er their fluffy young While cotton clouds above were sparsely flung And charmed the air in pledges of avowal. A chilly gust of autumn wind then passed: The wary thrush flew off; the geese stood still. I quickly heard the mumble of the mill And its blunt call, whose rhythm paced too fast. How sly is Time! In peace I wished to live, Not bend my mind upon the day’s dull cares; If only I had caught him unawares, I might have fooled him and his greedy sieve. Find my poems and published poetry volumes at www.eton-langford.com