Poets, especially,
Especially, poets
See glooming days ahead,
Write in dread.

The trick is to capture
Precious times just as they lie,
As they hover over us,
To live in the moments of bliss,
Because poets see darkness ahead;
Poets to life cling to drive away their dread.

The happy sigh,
The loving eye,
The moments we so crave...
The nurture precious love provides
Warm cradle to cold grave.

To know that gold lasts but a day
Drives us to make it earn its pay.

The pleasantness of days
Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall...
To capture beauty in them all:
First soft-falling snow,
Northward migrants' calls,
Warm days, watermelon cold,
Harvest color so enthralls,
And every moment lends its hue
To every moment that I have with you.