Sunday, September 27, 2015

Of Time's Waning Ways...



 God spreads for eyes, a feast, upon earth's banquet table...

The waning way of orchards dapples burnished branch with red
Its weans the slope of verdant sheen where summer banter rolled
Across the afternoon of bloom-buttoned vesture soft-shed
As hope adapts to days where autumn’s waning ways unfold

Dawn drapes landscapes with purple mist; it kindles green with gold
Future-present-to-past weds threads into Thought- woven art
Upon earth’s little ledge where sedge and hedge turn we behold
The waning way of seasons from the Poet of the heart

‘Be still and know that I am God’, the very lands bequeath
Submission where the ordinance of Providence spills seed
And on this holy ground we tread while overhead, beneath
The Hand that paints the waning ways of Time still fills its need

…and mankind’s mouth, while we look north to south or west to east
Drips with meek ‘my, oh, my’; we speak with tears upon the face
That in the waning ways of time God spreads for eyes, a feast
Upon earth's banquet table groaning with Amazing Grace

© Janet Martin

All the way to and from church this morning I found myself my-oh-mying over the beauty of the earth...

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