Wednesday, April 22, 2015

In Perfect Bloom

Now breaks the bud, now spills a thrilling sheen
From mud and bark-dark berths of earth, as surge
Of things hoped for emerges, virgin-green
Where joy and sorrow-splurges purge and merge
In dirge and celebration on the tongue
For New ever replenishes the old
And whether we are weathered, love, or young
Spring is a Thing of wonder to behold
Now breaks the vault where cold and winter-long
We suffered the return of flower-song

The appetite of midnight brings us dawn
And winter always, always ends in spring
The hurt of life, though hard and heavy on
The heart is oft expedient to bring
Us nearer to the One who holds the thread
Of gray and gold running through blood-bought grace
Thus, ever as Past-Present-Future wed
The fount of moments springs from God’s embrace
To we, at the measure and mercy of
Not merely seasons, but Abysmal Love

Ah look, and tremble at God’s wonder where
The full of it is veiled as yet until
He deems the hour fit to bear or wear
The flower soft unfolding in His will
…now breaks the Bud, now spills the will of spring,
Summer, autumn, winter, four-season’s worth
Until there is no Time left on the string
Extending from His fingers to the earth
Where from the berth of mud and bark-dark womb
The bud breaks forth at last in perfect bloom

© Janet Martin

That house there between the trees is where my neighbor Arnold lives. He is in hospital, weary and totally worn out from his cancer-fight and yesterday his wife told me, oh, pray that he can die in peace...he is so ready for his new body and there comes a time when letting go is kinder than holding on.'
I know they would appreciate our prayers.


  1. This is a beautiful sonnet, Janet. May your neighbor go in peace~ ahh, the new body which awaits us, what a glorious promise!

    1. thank-you Jen. I appreciate your thoughts. It hits esp. close to home because we grew up together, he and his siblings and our 'Martin troupe' playing many summer nights away until after dark our mothers would call and they would go slowly back across the side-road that separated our yards...and he is still in the same stage, his family and ours in the same age bracket.

      But That Promise is what births a strange-sweet alloy of sorrow-joy.


Thank you for your visit to this porch. Any thoughts you would like to share?