©2015 Susan Noyes Anderson
Every day is worth its weight.
The years pass on, and soon or late
your fields will grow up gold and tall
or fade away to naught at all.
The scenery depends on you;
your way of living yields the view.
An hour embraced bears rich reward,
but what befalls the hour ignored?
Don’t skitter through the days too fast.
The moments matter; make them last
or pay a price that costs you dear.
Time lost is loath to reappear.
Sow every hour in rows of gold.
Raise fields of glory to behold.