Tuesday, August 11, 2015

From the Ink of Hours...

Each season has its place
The changing face of Time
Evokes within the soul a rhyme
No pen can seem to trace

The Is becomes the Was
Yet ever Is exists
The tint of Time climbs, chimes and twists
A thread of seamless gauze

How fleet time’s fingers flit
Across a sky that spills
The ink of morn-noon-night to quills
Stunned by the Small of it

Seasons tattoo hurrah
Across and through our skin
Its ordinances vex and grin
And fluster man’s aha

…where a most common strife
Of do and say and pray
Composes in its Everyday
The story of a life

© Janet Martin

How effortlessly another summer fills the past!
Let's enjoy August to the max as we write its
unalterable story...

Yesterday we made applesauce and my daughter smiled as the sweet-tart aroma filled the air with what she called The Smell of August

I'd love to post photos of the little guys I babysit lined up for their turn to 'help' 
as we pressed apples through the colander
ongoing internet issues;(


  1. Hi! I am trying not to think about my apples at home in the basement:) crossing my fingers they'll be okay until Sat. Sorry to hear you are still having internet troubles...that is trying. It is definitely slower up here at camp too.

    1. if it doesn't change i will 'unplug' for a while:) too many joys in life to become too obsessed with its frustrations.

      maybe your apples will make applesauce all on their own;-)

      not funny...I know. hope they'll be okay.


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