Time treads

 (thoughts approaching Easter 3)

 

These are the days between,

there is a map, a plan

eternal sat-nav.

This is a pause for thought

hours of wrestling

with mental pain.

These are not fallow days

or days of making hay

for there is no sun shining

yet.

Constellations pulse,

planets orbit,

stars shine their death throes,

comets tread ordained paths.

Time treads its man-made road

between darknesses.

Envious night

has time of its own

and waits in the wings

for Friday's moment of ambush.

Preparations are made

the table of the future is being laid,

chalice and plate

await their filling.