Sunday, April 23, 2017

Dust-swirls... I was contemplating the upright position from my cozy horizontal came the first lines of this poem;-)

Left foot forward then the right;
Thus the day becomes the night
Little sleep when day is done;
Soon night’s deep is full of sun
Little holding close, then oh;
Tender tug of letting go
Little sorrow, joy, peace, strife
Stirs the dust that fosters life
Little swivel on the sod
Is time's little gift from God

© Janet Martin

 Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. 
What is your life? 
You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.

James 4:14

Wishing you a wonder-filled worship-day!


  1. Your photo of teasel folk with their prickly brown faces turned toward the glow of sunset and their fibrous arms raised in praise for the painted sky is like a poem. Did you take it? You have an eye for the natural beauty of the world.

    1. thank-you! your comment is like a poem:) yes, these guys always catch my eye this time of year...not much other vegetation to distract.

  2. Wonderful poem. Let us not forget, this is a gift.


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