Monday, March 30, 2015

A Language We Never Forget




 Robins return in spite of the snow...c'mon winter, give it a rest already!! yes, it's snowing...

Your language, easy to relearn
With the return of robin-song
And plush rush of warm rain upon
The plot of forget-me-not berm
Fills us with fuss of green-leaf trees
And wave-washed leas, and sun-bronzed feet
Though windows frame the dull retreat
Of winter’s ragged remnant fleece

Your language, soft as silk that flows
Around our toes from skeins aloft
Lavishes winter-weary croft
With vision of lilac and rose
That grows where now the lagging rogue
Has torn a hole into his sack
And feathers fall, a small attack
Mustered against unflustered brogue

…of you, sweet, sanguine dialect
Of stream gold-flecked, of daffodil
And violet and daisy hill
That none but you can resurrect
With words, the sweetest ever heard
Of anthems stirred that long have slept
While winter its chill vigil kept
Still you spill whispers, undeterred

© Janet Martin


4 comments:

  1. How wonderful. Your poem sounds like a spring brook running :-)

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    1. thank-you:)...and the brooks are running, then caught in pause then running again but COLD!!

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  2. Janet, loved this, a drink of fresh spring water. Just what I needed with the poignant emotions of Saturday. Blessed to discover you also. XO Allie

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    1. thank-you Allie, If you scroll to the bottom and click on the label Kara Tippetts you will find some of the ways her words and grace touched me...

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Thank you always for your visit and your thoughts.