In rushing, flies the moments to prepare.
In gath'ring up the portions of the wend --
the food, the garments, notebooks and a pen --
The hurried scholar rags in frosty air.
A scribble of the quill leaves thoughts too spare --
Quick figures on exchequer needs, losts found.
Affection and of thanks all poorly bound.
Some notes on chores now done, too brief of care.
So Journal keeps another morning gone.
Tonight another note or two fills in.
A year in volumed to be shelved begins
and many more looked forward to be done.
'tis written every morning and each night.
'go safely, swift returning'. 'Love'. All's right.
(c) 2011 G.Robin Smith all rights reserved