Age-old New

this poem was inspired in part by 'the age-old New' aka morning New day like a sky wide duvet of blush and blue and gold, unfoldsAbove earth’s trench-and-trove tableau bursting with what the future holds The loom that weaves lifetimes resumes its subtle dismantling of youthDoubt and deception’s clout still the bold, uncouth archrivals of truth Desire and duty aspire, conspire, compose replyWhile pardon cradles gardens and gutters and stutters of oh-my ...either to He who orchestrates the sky-wide Gates of day and nightOr to lesser gods, frauds with an insatiable appetite Once more the day the Lord has made is laden with bitter and sweetMorn’s mantle soon trampled and torn by the plunder of hands and feet Soft as a featherdown duvet wafting aloft, dawn’s first burst fadesInto the noise of grief and joy’s brief and boisterous escapades Time’s climes, where nursery rhymes, sun-bonnets, sonnets, hymns and scars accrueUnfold landscapes where echoes traipse while wonder gapes at age-old New © Janet Martin It was also inspired by a new, old nursery-rhyme book... ...because this grandmother just can't seem to resist Mother Goose and her silly, sweet, and sometimesslightly shocking entourage!  😅💛And after all, isn't Mother Goose like Winnie the Pooh?For children of all ages??(the artists all seem to have their personal gift/style of whimsy)