Showing posts with label Charlotte's Web. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Charlotte's Web. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 31, 2015

What To Do!





Unwrap, untie, unfold, undo
This day will not
Return to you

Enjoy, explore, empty, embrace
This thing that
No one can retrace

Walk slow, hold on, let go, for oh
How swift the tide
Of moments flow

© Janet Martin

‘I simply do not dread any season or beg a day to haste; they all go way to fast with no moment to waste’, I remarked to hubby on the weekend as snow dashed the edges of fading day...evoking a tender ache for something I simply cannot name.

Tell me, where did March go?!


Winter will pass,

the days will lengthen,

the ice will melt in the pasture pond.

The sparrow will return and sing,

the frogs will awake,

the warm wind will blow again.

All these sights and sounds and smells will be yours to enjoy, Wilbur-

this lovely world,

these precious days...



Charlotte, from Charlotte's Web

Sunday, November 9, 2014

These Precious Days




When the tree weeps an auburn circle, love
Beneath bleak and barren reach
When the sun is sallow and hollow, love
Over drab, deserted beach
When the people that sprawled half-lazy, love
Are bundled and brisk white-breathed
When thought is a schooner half-crazy, love
On a sea that is silver-wreathed

When dark settles over late afternoon
Like a somber mourning cloak
When the east at supper is full of moon
Or rain where the sky-pane broke
When the land is bleak in the aftermath
Of nature’s grand *magnum opus
And all that is left is a husk-strewn path
Where the wild-bloom of summer was

When banter of breeze saunters through stricken trees
Expectancy baits the day
Like a hush as yon curtains are parted
And an orchestra starts to play
Once more we are gently reminded, love
Of Time’s wafting, winsome ways
Where all that we have here on earth, my love
Are its sweet and precious days

© Janet Martin

*Latin for 'great work'

Winter will pass,
the days will lengthen,
the ice will melt in the pasture pond.
The sparrow will return and sing,
the frogs will awake,
the warm wind will blow again.
All these sights and sounds and smells will be yours to enjoy, Wilbur-
this lovely world,
these precious days...

Charlotte, from Charlotte's Web