Stolen moments

Stolen moments

Stolen moments in the gardened day
as night stalks the wings,
a mystery of grasses whisper
the coming raft of unlight.
The weight of moments flavours the taste of life:
the sweet of early, the sour of late,
the aftertaste of solitary now.
But, In the warm waiting instant, in meditation,
the enormity of life is of no consequence
to the gentle
ministering
minutiae of eternity.