In Lieu of Task To-do ...

Today I'm trying to ignore this to-do list...(except the last thing:)

...for more of this...

Fill blank windowsills with flowers,

Let to-do lists idly sit

Soft, soft, summer doffed of hours

Drains to eons echo-lit

Lie beneath the beaming leaf-bough

Wander lanes with plumed pit-stops

Climb to heaven in a hay-mow

Or a wild-grass strummed hilltop

Drive without a destination

Run, but only if you must

Make Today a celebration

Of what morrow turns to dust

Drink the ink that poets plunder

Do not blink, oh, there it goes

Summer murmurs, spilling wonder

Like pink petals from a rose

Hesitate where barred gates beckon

Trespass; then plead pardon’s grace

Disturb lane-ways lush with bracken

Blue-strife, aster, Queen Ann’s Lace

Soon this berth of blooming bowers

Strips earth’s loom of petal-stars

Leaving in the wake of flowers

Winter’s ache of empty jars

© Janet Martin

But THIS...has a mind of its own!
Just went to choose a juicy snack and there are a whole lot of 'juicy snacks' to choose from!

A Very Present Responsibility

How do these things happen?! we ask as we watch the news and mourn the aftermaths of atrocities rendered one to another. They happen when we cease to love another!

He answered, "'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind';
and,
 'Love your neighbor as yourself.'"

Luke 10:27

By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another."

John 13:35

So much noise these days, some evil, some intended for good,

but because of the noise some become quiet

and because of the quietness some becomes noisy!

All is in vain, but that which is love!

So Today, let's let Love lead

I’m glad we do not need to see

Tomorrow and what waits to be

I’m glad we do not need to bear

Tomorrow with its weight of care

I’m glad we do not need to know

Tomorrow’s lot of joy or woe

But that, by grace of God we may

Give our best to each Today

Anxiety for morrow’s mile

Drains Today of its sing-and-smile

To fret about the ‘yet’ is vain

Tomorrow, no one can attain

Still, we are never called to be

Sojourners of complacency

But rather, with meek heart to pray

And seek God’s guidance for today

For oh, the weight of it is great

But love makes worth its earth-estate

Therefore, with kind humility

How mindful of Time we should be

Yet never try to carry more

Than what today is granted for

Where Mercy’s present help is laid  

In each today the Lord has made

© Janet Martin

 God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.

Ps.46:1

Love Suffers Long...And Is Kind

When love weighs hard upon the heart

And soft upon our tears

When it is at a loss for words

Save thought, God alone hears

When it is understood that love

Suffers long yet is kind

Then we begin to glimpse the love

The Author had in mind

When what we first perceived as love

Tests mortal uttermost

Then, then we have a chance to prove

Validity of boast

…and when we come to end of self

And what we thought we knew

Oh, praise God for His faithful help

His love will lead us through

© Janet Martin

Blessing-shower

Some sweet, sweet August mementos...

 Many, O LORD my God, are thy wonderful works which thou hast done, 

and thy thoughts which are to us-ward: 

they cannot be reckoned up in order unto thee:  

if I would declare and speak of them, they are more than can be numbered.

Ps.40:5

Orchard slope is laden with blossom-hope come true

August is a maiden with eyes corn-flower blue

Bare feet traipse where heat-sweet haze glazes dusty earth

Farewell, fleet, green yesterdays of lusty rebirth

Saffron sunrise-hour spilt, sires history

August is a flower quilt tossed on spired lea

Thistle-seed and thimble-weed, teasel, goldenrod

Stipples summer’s easel with Masterpiece from God

Garden brims with gourd-shaped hymns, onion-pepper-corn

August is a lure-draped limb bent with bud full born

Love and longing intertwine, wind through vying rooms

Like an intangible vine, lined with dying blooms

Brush the brooding tear, my dear, seasons come to pass

August is a belvedere where echoes amass

Hush, ere morrow steals the boy’s carefree, happy play

Sorrow is the child of joy; live, laugh, love today

List, the cricket fiddle-lay, morn to middle-night

August is a ticket, hey, to dog-day delight  

Court its flower-hour cupped in fallible jars

Count its blessing-shower like children counting stars

© Janet Martin