Gratitude

Against the blue and frosted slope

I see a somber throng

Like matadors robbed of their cloaks

Or minstrels with no song

A thickened sort of quiet lies

Against the rugged cusp

Where winds, like stiff-starched orderlies

Have stripped sweet summer’s lust

And up into the vaulted sky

I hear the murmur of good-bye

Against the ruby thread of dawn

I see a silhouette

A lonesome sort of picture drawn

In frames of sorrow, yet

A battle-song of beauty moans

From thorns without their bloom

In dark and muted undertones

It warms earth’s stricken tomb

As petal-tear of flow’r and leaf

Imbrues the sphere with nature’s grief

Against the tumult of the heart

A tender peace resides

For as in seasons of the earth

God’s faithfulness abides

When life is rich with vibrant bloom

Or stripped of mortal cheer

He whispers in the aching gloom

To tell us He is near

And over autumn’s garb subdued

We breathe a prayer of gratitude

Janet Martin

The landscape shivers in the still of dawn,

Naked and stark as summer’s final chapter decks the frosty ground…

A sad beauty prevails…

It tugs the spectator’s heart in equal forces of joy and grief

Ah, tis true as the old poet said, ‘there is a flower in every leaf’