Thursday, November 23, 2017

Of Felled Fronds...





Though it lingers soon the fingers
from a hand we cannot still
Steals the such-and-such we touch
like lilies felled upon yon hill
And the Face once flushed with pleasure
at the treasure it beheld
Learns the elemental measure
of moments that mutely meld
Weaving in their wake meek wonder
for a strange and younger cast
Stirring sentimental hunger
in the heart for seasons past
Yet the very ache that turns our heads
compels us to commit
...to never overlook the threads
soon woven into it

© Janet Martin

Hugs and special prayers today for those holding
dark threads...
They will, Lord willing, become bright again!

This poem By Corrie Ten Boom
is a tender reminder of the big picture

The Tapestry


My life is but a weaving
Between my God and me.
I cannot choose the colors
He weaveth steadily.
Oft’ times He weaveth sorrow;
And I in foolish pride
Forget He sees the upper
And I the underside.
Not ’til the loom is silent
And the shuttles cease to fly
Will God unroll the canvas
And reveal the reason why.
The dark threads are as needful
In the weaver’s skillful hand
As the threads of gold and silver
In the pattern He has planned
He knows, He loves, He cares;
Nothing this truth can dim.
He gives the very best to those
Who leave the choice to Him.

No comments:

Post a Comment

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