After June...Is it July 2nd already?!

I wrote this poem earlier and now already it is afternoon!

 Click on image to enlarge...

 

Already it isnd afternoon eddies into the blue of After Junernoon the Today after the day that was

A new and unpenned chapter waits for eventide’s applause

For soft the morn leaps forward until it is afternoon

And afternoon eddies into the bay of After June

No one can dam a moment or the journey of its will

It pours earth full of seasons as its hallelujahs spill

And one by one across the line that severs east from west

Time’s off-spring flows from bud to rose to twilight’s daily death

Ah, there is no returning from what is to what has been

The sweep of spring depleted cannot exchange gold for green

The well of youth is soon run dry though daily moments drench

Its wink with opportunity and thirst time cannot quench

This slipping drip of sky rouses both sorrow and delight

As we grasp at its bubble-sphere of morning holding night

For soft the morn bobs forward until it is afternoon

And afternoon wafts into past’s blue bayou; After June

© Janet Martin

Sometimes Life is Like a Bike Ride...a few Thursday Thoughts

....sometimes life is like a bike ride. Not this one though.(first pictured here) It's got one wheel tied on with an old shoe-lace. I wish it could tell me where its been but it will live out its remaining days quietly, like a good old horse, in my flower-garden. I 'washed' it with red paint to freshen it up...

Because I'm not babysitting this week and Victoria has friends staying over for the week it seemed like a free ticket to a morning of biking...

click on images to enlarge...

Sometimes

We press ahead,

Thinking we are

Exactly where

We think we are

Until we look back

Astonished

At how far

We’ve come

Sometimes the wind bullies so hard

That downhill feels like up

We get so tired, but cannot afford

To pause where loafers sup

So we eke on and up until

The wind that beat our brow

Becomes a welcome push we feel

Somewhere behind us now

Sometimes we coast,

Sometimes we strain

Because life is both

Pleasure and pain

Stay the straight path,

And fight the good fight

But don’t miss the wonder

Of God-breathed delight

Lest  we grow weary

Too early because

We took no Sabbath

In nature’s hurrahs

Janet Martin

Here's wishing for you a sabbatical in nature's cathedral!

A Bit of This and That Canada Day

 It was a nice bit-of-this-and-that Canada Day...

a bit of garden and meadow meandering,

a bit of baseball,

a bit of biking,

a bit of cooking,

a bit of reading,

a bit of fireworks

A bit of this and that is all I really want or need

A garden plot to plant a posy, pluck a little weed

A dinner table spread for tea,

A song of true north strong and free

A happy little family

And a good book to read

A bit of this and that is really more than I deserve

A little boy or girl to fit into an elbow’s curve

A cat to scat or stroke a bit

A mat to shake, a chair to sit

And in the eve a lamp soft-lit

While vesper spills its verve

A bit of this and that can make one feel quite like a king

It plants the heart with thankfulness and probes the mouth to sing

As soft we whisper, thank-you God

That you have blessed my plot of sod

With This and That; the best of laud

That life and love can bring

© Janet Martin

Drops of Summer-Majesty

The edge of earth’s easel

Is tucked to the sky

Where Green splashed with breezes

Soft-teases the eye

Far, faraway headlands

Frame Afternoon’s hold

Where Time is a medley

Of purple and gold

We live in palaces

Fit for finest king

Tromp wide-open wonder-halls

Where flower-choirs sing

Where is the grand palette

That colors the air

With sunrise and sunset

And high-noon azure?

...while we gaze, astonished

As full pictures fall

In Masterpiece workmanship

Free to one and all

   

For the Unseen Artist

Of sky, land and sea

Soft-spills to earth’s paper

Drops of Majesty

© Janet Martin

Miraculous Transformation

What wasted want our hearts would utter

What small ‘nothings’ word would be

But for our Heavenly Father

Who hears every humble plea

Then, with whisper’s earnest smallness

Then with tears tongue cannot spell

God transforms the prayer we hold up

And performs a miracle

© Janet Martin

As we lift up our little words

In sad and broken strands

What comfort this; To know God hears

Our hearts and understands 

As I prayed for suffering believers in the Middle East, the Ukraine and all over the world,

as I prayed for the lost and the lonely, 

the daughter in Toronto, 

for those who mourn,

the sick and the poor...

...I was overwhelmed with gladness to know God takes these small words lifted up and transforms them to His power and glory.