Tuesday, September 13, 2011

The Gentle Hour


The laid-back breeze begins to tease

The hemlock and the pine

As Heaven’s fingers gently blur

West’s dim horizon-line

While in the east a languid feast

Bleeds from the harvest moon

A lullaby in velvet sky

Without a note or tune


The silhouette of maple-red

Is etched against deep blues

As God above in tones of love

The restless light subdues

And in the hush of dwindled rush

A halo crowns the dust

As all my cares in weightless prayers

Drift to the One I trust


My lesser loves like empty gloves

I place in Hands of grace

Why do I dread the miles ahead?

He holds the stars in space

He writes the hymn of willow limb

The earth He bathes with dew

And in the calm of midnight’s palm

His mercy is made new


Janet Martin


Tonight the silence is perfect, save for a faithful few crickets.

I'm tempted to pull out my wheel-barrow and work in my flower-beds,

the moon is so bright. It would be so still and so CRAZY! Why?

Oh....right. Nights were made for sleeping. Why does God save some of His best displays

for the hours when we're supposed to sleeping?!


His compassions never fail.

They are new every morning.

Great is Your faithfulness. Lam. 3:23

2 comments:

  1. "My lesser loves like empty gloves I place in Hands of grace," brought me to a halt until I could regain my breath. Beautiful

    ReplyDelete
  2. Thank-you Mike. Last night was so large and beautiful words almost seemed like an injustice to such grandeur!

    ReplyDelete

Thank you for your visit to this porch. I'd love to hear if or how this post/poem touched you!