Friday, January 8, 2016


Day deepens; its far-off foothills soft-kissed
And swathed in scarves of periwinkle mist

Blue banter of breeze eases through highs and lows
Settling where the sky-line is a red rose

The sight of day passing slows our feet
As we watch its remnant river deplete

Then glad, we turn toward toil’s tender quest
Of hearth 
and home 
and slumber’s merited rest

© Janet Martin

There's a different tone to Friday night rush-hour traffic...
a sigh of relief mingled with anticipation, maybe?

…unless you are a transport truck driver, always coming home to leave.

It’s hard to explain Jim’s love/hate relationship with the road…
As soon as his truck turns homeward it’s like a horse in full gallop; can’t get home fast enough.
As soon as he is home he is checking the schedules to see where to next.


  1. Replies
    1. It is big! I rode in it for the first time in a LONG time and gained a new respect for what he does for his family:) It's a crazy world out there on the highway!

  2. This is a lovely poem, Janet. Your two first lines are perfect images.

    1. Sara, thank-you so much. Until the rain began yesterday we had a sweep of gorgeous soft-pink-wrapped twilights in a row!!!

    2. the photo is facing east, catching the sheen of blazing west, its skyline falling behind buildings and trees. I always go a few miles up the road to get a good west-facing sunset pic!


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