Leap Day

 At IGWRT they ask these questions today...

What color is your morning?
What are the shapes of your day?
What are the smells of your evening?
What are the textures of your favorite piece of clothing?
What are the sounds you hear right now?
What nourishes you?
What do you see when you open your eyes and really look?

 Play by play on Leap Day unfolding...

Gray arms cleave to Mother Earth

Dawn offers a bleak embrace

As ice tears dash her frozen turf

Coffee sings amazing grace

Obliterating dull despair

In amber sunshine on my tongue

Dear daughter dangles from my chair

As she observes how ‘poem’ is done

And then she’s off in twirls and whirls

Of Sunkist orange and sock-feet glee

Thank-you God, for little girls

I inhale simplicity;

The scent of wood-smoke from the fire

The flail of axe as son splits wood

The arguments of sibling ire

Life is good, life is good

Weather man forecasts cold rain

Red flannel smiles, warm fingers touch

Chocolate cake pulled from the oven

I don’t mind the cold too much

Oom-pa-pa notes dip and dive

Piano lessons cannot wait

Oh, it’s good to be alive

‘Snow day’ mornings sure are great

© Janet Martin

I wrote this poem as the moments played out…

The kids have a 'snow day'...no school. 

I realized to keep up with Victoria as she flits about the house is a whole separate poem!

Matthew split the wood, started a fire, then I told him he may bake his favorite chocolate cake and we’ll have ‘leap day’ cake for supper.

Roots

To teach a child morality

With no Base for its stand

Is like trying to plant a tree

On shores of shifting sand

Our eyes behold but half the tree

Though towering are its reaches

It is the Base we cannot see

Securing storm-tossed branches

The whole of moral law consists

Not only by instruction

But by a hidden measuring stick

That justifies law’s judgment

How can we teach a child of love

And yet deny its Giver?

Love has a Source man cannot prove

Without a Higher Power

How can we teach morality

Or fool-proof absolutes

And yet ignore the Deity

That gives the Law its roots?

© Janet Martin 

As I watch the wind bending the trees I marvel at their strength...

...the trunk never moves though the branches are thrashed in the gale.

And yet it is not the trunk which keeps it there. It is the part we cannot see.

The trees survival depends on the surety of the roots. If the roots are healthy and True the tree will stand.

It spawned a train of thought as I looked at my kids (snow day again) and I began to wonder how their 'roots' are developing. Will they hold fast in the storm's of life?

Time Enough or A Housewife Rebels

Time enough for mundane dues

The sun has flung a yellow wash

Across the earth; dull avenues

Transform beneath its gilded sash

And I must leave these bland confines

Of ginger-spice and lemon soap

Of laundry-poems with endless lines

The breeze, a gentle calliope

Strums eagerly the jeweled limb

It beckons to me from the air

As nature’s azure, lilting hymn

Seeps through the window to my chair

Where Duty with austere command

Points me to pots and pans and broom

But a kind stranger tugs my hand

And lures me to earth’s grand ballroom

Where now silk threads have teased the sun

To dim her golden smile a bit

For soon another day is gone

And soon the evening star is lit

For even now the pale white ghost

Of crescent moon dangles aloft

Before the sun has thought to coast

Beneath the western skyline’s croft

Time enough for mundane dues

Today offers no repeat chance

On lengthened shadow avenues

Kind stranger, may I have this dance?

© Janet Martin

…and so we did

On Waiting...

We cannot rush the unfolding of a flower

Or improve upon its flawless, fragile bloom

We cannot hasten minutes through an hour

To by-pass lessons in life’s waiting room

We cannot hurry seasons or extend them

The naked tree must wait for spring’s consent

We cannot form God’s preordained perfection

But we can trust and wait…and be content

© Janet Martin

 Wait on the LORD: be of good courage,
and he shall strengthen your heart:
 wait, I say, on the LORD. Ps. 27:14

I Wonder...

If I am the only ‘Jesus’

That some will ever see

I wonder what they think of Him

As they meet Him through me

If I profess to take His name

Wherever I may go

I wonder if they think of Him

As One they’d like to know

Janet~

Like Pipe-smoke on a Sultry Summer's Eve

You weave

through my senses

I’m entranced

by your lips
as they brush

my thought
in an ethereal kiss

and memories murmur,

a spiraling blush

into the dense
warm twilight hush

like pipe-smoke

on a sultry summer's eve
your presence
evokes
memories

softly, you weave

your way to me

over cumbersome answers

with questions never breathed,

truth cementing
fact into place

Still, I remain
touching your face

reluctant to call it a day

though moments pelt

the deepening silver-gray
like snowflakes melt
they fade away

into history’s expanding clutch
without tangible touch

Oh, it’s strange

how thought can stray

needing no map

to guide its way
across oceans
of twilight nothingness
to you...

J~

 http://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/

Mini-vacation

There are no maps

To direct me

No highways to follow

No hills to climb

But I can find you

With my eyes closed

Destinies of the heart

Are traveled

Through the mind

J~

The Onset of Things to Come

The dawn has spread, four hours deep

Across the thinning sky

Illusive ghosts of midnight creep

Beyond its waning eye

And on the cusp of things to come

With mystic fingertips

God’s grace unfolds a sacred bloom

As morning parts its lips

Inhale the nectar of His hope

Love bleeds miraculously

As Time exhales a transient scope

Of opportunity

And on the cusp of things to come

Another day begins

Mercy imparts from lofty Throne

Forgiveness for our sins

Beneath our feet a stepping-stone

Of moments yields its path

Leading into life’s vast unknown

From history’s aftermath

Ephemeral vapor on Time’s tongue

This brief reality

What was

What is

And is to come

Before

Eternity

© Janet Martin

Abiding Treasure

The beauty of a word remains

Long after youth’s ephemeral dance

Or its passive and pleasant glance

The beauty of a word remains

Speak to me that treasure then

Far better it than transient fray

For when I am old and gray

I will smile with pleasure, then

Some strive for fame and fortune’s gold

Dross does not leave the spirit stirred

But oh, the splendor of a word

Is such a wondrous thing to hold

The beauty of a word remains

Long after youth’s ephemeral gasp

It will soothe our wanton clasp

The beauty of a word remains

J~

Fulfilled

Lord, let me never want for naught

The things that you have deemed not mine

In every moment, deed and thought

Not for a neighbor's blessing pine

Lord, teach me how to live and love

And never disregard my lot

Because of what I do not have

As in some greener field I sought

A thousand, thousand blessings, Lord

Daily pass before my gaze

In every thought, action and word

May I live to give You praise

© Janet~

My Mother

Queen of the mending basket

And stretching a dollar

And loving ten children

Each the best

My mother

Eye of an artist

Heart of a poet

Hands of a farmer

Patience of Job

My mother

The butcher, the baker

The tireless meal-maker

The gardener, landscaper

The seamstress and quilter

The tutor and teacher,

The nurse, the maid

The most beloved

Mother

Her name is Grace~

© Janet Martin

I'm thinking about my mom today (snow-day with MUCH noise)

and I am realizing once again what an amazing mom I had as I grew up,

and wondering how she did it....often humming as she cooked supper.

She is still amazing...(almost 70) and tirelessly serving wherever there is a need.

Invincible One-horse Power

Come freezing rain, sleet, snow
One-horse power will always go.

Janet~
 
I just snapped this photo as they passed by...completely unhindered by a hyped-up
-not-really-happening in the amounts forecasted,  snow-day.
It's business as usual for this horse:)

Storm-cloud Sonnet

He unfurls his talons, sharpens his sting

Vampire lunging at bold, unclad throats

He inhales misguided whispers of spring

Spewing his fury in icy-sharp notes

The wanton field ‘neath noon’s azure sonnet

Trees that were dreaming of lacy, green dress

Hills primed for frocks and pretty spring bonnets

Succumb to thrusts of his frigid caress

Visions of blossom and bloom now preside

Somewhere beneath the white veil of a bride

…and now the landscape is a white-capped sea

Sailors don mufflers and bright woolen toques

Somewhere summer waits, over argent lea

Brimming with gardens and chatter of brooks

We will not suffer too long at the prow

Bucking chill rivers on highway and street

Spring is the conqueror of all things snow

This frozen ocean is bound for defeat

Smile at the north wind with blue-puckered mouth

He will fall prey to fair maids of the south

This is the season of warm quilts and books

Then let winds grumble with thick, heavy jowls

Miracles stir in the snow-laden nooks

Quite undeterred by its bully-white howls

Noise is the mask of a fool’s emptiness

Flinging steel teardrops against cheek and glass

Soon its wild tantrum will cease its distress

Mustering threats that dissolve on the grass

This is the season of fire-side bliss

Hot-chocolate-marshmallow, sticky-sweet kiss

© Janet Martin

Song: Storms Never Last

Well...

If I have lived a laughter-gilded mile

And grieved so I may learn its worth

To comfort another on this short road

To eternity

Then I have lived well

If I have learned to see beyond sight

And hear beyond sound

To the heart of nature

And child

Then I have learned well

If I have loved beyond pleasure
And returned, not empty-handed
But wiser and kinder
To myself and others
Then I have loved well

If I can rest in peace

Knowing I leave no enemies

Scarred by thoughtless word

Or deed

Then I may die well

 © Janet Martin

Random Haiku

The Chestnut

Prickly exterior

Time breaks through its hardened shell

Smooth, genteel heart

0~0~0~

Winter Wind

Icy white fingers

Clawing at noon’s mellow smile

Melting in his kiss

0~0~0~

Song: Like Red on a Rose...

The Rose…

Soft magenta folds

Bejeweled with crystal dew

Spills musky fragrance

J~

Sometimes as the dark sky leans over the world...

Sometimes as the dark sky leans over the world

And covers the day with its bowl

 I think of you and an ocean unfurls

Somewhere deep inside my soul

Love lays its tender and torturous grip

Over the ache in my sigh

It traces an image with soft fingertips

Drawing a tear to my eye

Time cannot retract any steps that it takes

The past, an elusive sea

I’ll fill night’s hollow with wishes I make

And love’s tender melody

The wind understands as it echoes my moan

And weeps at the foot of my bed

Somehow the night is much darker alone

As lady-moon covers her head

Sometimes when the dark sky leans over the sea

And smothers the sun with its lips

I hear the thought of you coming to me

And I trace you with soft fingertips

J~

Till Death Doth Part (Wedding Anniversary Poem)

Till death doth part, love’s solemn vow

Pledged oft in untried youth

But it reveals endurance now

In silver-haloed truth

Till death doth part, only God sees

Life’s breadth beneath the sun

As hands join in love’s mysteries

Uniting two in One

Will you be faithful, tender, true

In sickness and in health,

To love and cherish all life through

The other to yourself?

No beauty passes love’s refrains

As life proves words once spoken

Midst smiles and tears love’s vow remains

A pure and priceless token

Till death doth part, oh who can know

When love’s vow must surrender?

As one is called upon to go

Thus severing cords so tender

Till death doth part, oh may it be

And never our undoing

Then oh, what joyful victory

Will comfort teardrops flowing

Name and Name, God bless you

We thank-you Father, Mother

For showing love faithful and true

And always, to each other

Till death doth part, love’s solemn vow

Pledged oft in untried youth

But you reveal its beauty now

In silver-haloed truth

© Janet Martin~

Written for my sister's in-law's who are celebrating their 60th wedding anniversary in March, Lord willing.

Redemption

 Photo Source: http://www.susieharrisblog.com/2011/08/it-is-finished.html

Three words sealed redemption’s plan

And brought eternal hope to man

The veil was rent, its need diminished

As Jesus cried out, ‘It is finished’

Janet~

Fantasical, Magical...Words

Words are such wonderful, magical bits

We never know where they will lead

Combined and arranged until everything fits

Into poems and stories to read

Words are divine and fantastical gems

Strung on the thread of our thought

Twirl them and swirl them and twirl them again

To see what new magic they’ve brought

Words are such pleasant, peculiar things

Their message entirely changed

By shifting their order on translucent strings

Oh, and isn’t it strange…

…how words cut their way to our innermost core

Leaving us utterly stirred

As we search, remember, seek and implore

In the humble medium…of word

© Janet Martin~

Words, words, words, oh the thrill and chill of their might

Painting invisible master-pieces on canvasses of the mind.

Heaven on Earth

Heaven opened up one day and spilled against the earth

Hallowed wonder pouring from a window up above

How else can we explain the joy of a wee baby’s birth?

Holding heaven softly in our humble arms of love

Every morning with the dawn His mercy is made new

Each evening a whisper of Him paints the western sky

Embrace this moment for it is His gift to me and you

Eternity is waiting in a sweeter by and by

Violets and daffodils to herald spring’s glad day

Velvet blue to hold the moon in summer’s warm midnight

Valley, field and hillside flame in autumn’s bold array

Victory crowns the evergreen in winter’s pristine white

Is there a man who can exceed an offering such as this?

Infinite redemption fills mankind with heaven’s worth

If this is not a glimpse Heaven, tell me then, what is?

In God we trust; as heaven spills its shadow on the earth

© Janet Martin

another Poetic Bloomings Trolaan

Song: I Don't Deserve a Mansion

A Trolaan- Hell on Earth

They pose, like crudely painted Barbie dolls

Twilight is a silent cue

The street becomes a tainted shopping mall

That broad daylight hides from view

Hell begins for some before death’s kind grace

Hope, a wretched mockery

Here crawls the lowest form of human race

Hate feeding lust’s misery

Evil steals the child’s right to innocence

Eyes mirror desperate need

Employers trade young lives for petty cents

Enslaved to dead gods of greed

Veiled propriety rises with the dawn

Visage feigns blind ignorance

Violence wears a suit and carries on

Victims seek cocaine deliverance

© Janet Martin

 Poetic Blooming asks us to write a Trolaan.

Trolaan was created by Valerie Peterson Brown, and is a poem consisting of 4 quatrains. Each line of the quatrain begins with the same letter. The rhyme scheme is abab.
Starting with the second stanza you use the second letter of the first line of the first stanza to write the second; each line beginning with that letter.
On the third stanza you will use the second letter on the first line of the second stanza and write the third each line beginning with that letter.
On the fourth stanza you will use the second letter on the first line of the third stanza and write the fourth each line beginning with that letter.

Why this subject?...it exists...under our noses!

My daughters helped a street mission one week-end. Their horror stories are unforgettable. This is one that happens every night. As our youth were introduced to the streets the mission-worker told them what is about to transpire under the cover of darkness.
 

On Hope

Song: Whispering Hope ~

Hope is that Light to which we’re drawn

A thirst in every heart

It is assurances of dawn

When night is deep and dark

To Hope we lift our empty cup

Not in a faithless duty

But knowing Someone fills it up

With heaven’s unseen beauty

Hope breaks through ramparts of despair

And drives its doubt asunder

Hope is the Whisper in the air

That stirs the heart with wonder

Hope does not worry, does not quit

Hope draws us from our slumber

And lifts us from the darkened pit

Hope does not encumber

Hope is that Light to which we’re drawn

An unseen Hand to hold

Hope is the Voice that spurs us on

In spite of what we’re told

Hope is the beckoning of Life

Though tears may dim the eye

Hope makes bearable this strife

For without Hope…we die

© Janet Martin

Blessed are those whose help is the God of Jacob,
   whose hope is in the LORD their God. Psalms 146:5

You Might be a Poet if...

Poet's turn off the computer, then turn it back on immediately because they realize one word needs to be changed...and no, it can't wait until morning.

Poets burn the candle at both ends...
...and in the middle too.

Poet's LOVE 'alphabet soup'.

Poets dream...in color!

Poet's motto...Live, laugh, love, write

A poet is someone who does not always see exactly what they are looking at...or for.

The poet's heart is never dull.

Of all the gifts whereby we're blessed
Is not the poet's gift the best?

Janet~

These are the Days

These are the days of lulled complacency

Days of choosing fatal violence

in distorted concepts of

good and evil

These are the days when judgment

is deemed the greater sin

and for which we are

held most accountable

These are the days of free choice

excusing virtue

These are the days of

dark consequence

But for grace, we all would be lost

© Janet Martin

Inspired by these words...

The delicate action of grace in the soul is profoundly disturbed by all human violence. Passion, when it is inordinate, does violence to the spirit and its most dangerous violence is that in which we seem to find peace. Violence is not completely fatal until it ceases to disturb us.    Thomas Merton. Thoughts in Solitude.

as I read them here

Simple Rules for a Life Well-lived

Love one another

With each gifted breath

Every man is a brother

In the hour of death

Help one another

Be gentle and kind

Always with the other

Foremost in mind

Cheer one another

The language of grief

Is as universal

As comfort’s relief

Care for each other

No matter the creed

We all our humble

Creatures of need

Love one another

For soon we shall be

Sister and brother

For eternity

© Janet Martin

Curtained Portals

How broad the depth of night doth span

Far past this curtained portal

How vague the narrow scope of man

Beneath expanse immortal

Ten-thousand times each cloud’s expanse

Is mankind’s sure damnation

But greater far, Love’s mercy grants

For our debt, salvation

How swift time’s fluid scalpel curbs

Youth’s unrestrained illusion

And sets their feet on higher roads

Of Honor’s wise intrusion

How small is mankind’s mortal hour

How infinite God’s pardon

That He should pluck this lowly flower

To plant in Heaven’s garden

Unfathomed are the astral heights

Unfathomed is His wonder

I set my weak and earth-dimmed sights

On curtained portals, yonder

© Janet Martin

I was listening to the news...and needed to lift my sights higher

than this planet of doom and gloom...

 Ye are of God, little children, and have overcome them: 

because greater is he that is in you, than he that is in the world.
1 John 4:4(KJV)

Where Have All The Flowers Gone?

Etched against the cerulean sky-line

The desolate, burned-out corpses

Of stately walnut tree and stalwart pine

Mark the graves of warriors and horses

The lacy tress of emerald spire

That stroked summer’s lithesome breeze

In cannon-bursts of blood and fire

Are reduced to scorched centuries

Where have all the flowers gone

That nodded in the calm of tranquil wood?

They mark the tombs of daughters, sons

Laid to rest in pools of gifted blood

Where have all the flowers gone

That bloomed too short, before they died?

They rest within the gardens where

Humbler posies bloom with pride…

…upon the graves of heroes lost

Before conceived deliverance

To grace the tombs of freedom’s cost

Nature replies in reverence

© Janet Martin

In the movie War Horse I was struck at how swiftly

verdant beauty and tranquility was reduced to ashes and blood.

Written for: Poetic Bloomings

Winter's Sleeping Pasture

It sleeps; nestled against the earth;

Beneath shadowy tresses

Where August breath had scorched its girth

The ghost of summer passes

The choristers of feathered throat

Have fled to kinder arches

As winter’s restless whistle strokes

Bizarrely-twisted marshes

Sweat, toil and sores the farmer bears

To plant spring’s barren fallow

But now he rests; he knows the cares

Of labor soon to follow

And on the ledger’s smudgy page

The balance of his losses

Straps to his heart the tortured faith

That succors farmer’s crosses

It sleeps, nestled against the earth

Before the grand renewal

As springtime seeps, in colored mirth

Toward the cusp of April

And every humble stalk is clad

In crystal-gilded vesture

A wild and winsome wonderland

Is winter’s sleeping pasture

Janet~

http://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/

As Vast as the Unknown Glistening...

As vast as the unknown glistening

On a new day yet untrod

So is the infinite mercy

And grace of our loving God

As wide as the ethereal heavens

In copious pastures of blue

So are the unwavering promises

God gave to me and you

In lengths of transient ribbon

The unknown cloaks the sod

But not one thread escapes the hand

Of our faithful God

Ethereal Echoes

In the evening she would lean against the pillar of the porch

As nature dropped its chatter like parishioners at church

The breeze ran cooling fingers soft against her pensive stance

And in the gathering twilight how those memories would dance

‘ Oh Mama, watch our somersault’ she sees two little girls

As cotton dresses flew awry with tousled braids or curls

And then her eyes would rest upon nasturtium, lily, rose

The ivy on the south-west wall; how subtly it glows

As noonday sheds maternal warmth in dusty pink and gold

The farmer walked toward her then, his stride youthful and bold

Unlike the creak of wooden planks as now he sits and rocks

While time re-plays before his eyes the ticking of life’s clocks…

…the weathered pride of heaven’s walls charms intrigued passers-by

Pausing to hear time’s clock rewind in nature’s reverent sigh

Frames of a perfect romance lure the wanderer to its door

Hungry for glimpses of the life that played across its floor

But timber seals its creaking lips, eyes stare back silently

Its staid facade a soundless dirge of sweet melancholy

The ivy claws tenaciously against its wooden breast

Beneath a hundred-season sky its longing is caressed

And we are drawn toward the song of hallowed history

Of tumbled lawn, perennial bloom and musing's mystery

Where in the eve she leaned against the pillar on the porch

We gaze with awe-hushed voices like parishioners at church

© Janet Martin

I loved all the pictures but kept returning to this one...

Thank-you Mary-Ann for sharing the wonderful photos!

Photo Prompt at Real Toads

It could work for the previous prompt as well:)

A Little like a Snowfall Haiku

It falls soundlessly

In profound transformation

And then we are old

 

Limbs supple; fruitful

Surrender to time’s wisdom

White crowns youth’s forehead

Back into the earth

Returns all manner of life

A tiny seed stirs

© Janet Martin

White Grace Haiku

In the quiet night
the sky parted her dark lips
exhaling white grace

Deliberate Surrender

Why is it so hard sometimes,

To trust the Hand

that lights the sun,

that paints the earth,

that fills the oceans

And directs the firmaments

That instructs the lightning

and feeds the wild

that stirs the seed

and topples mountains

And cares for me?

© Janet Martin

I watched this little wood-pecker today...

as God provided its needs.

On Suffering

Some are given painful sorrows to bear

Visible burdens of grief

Some carry great crosses deep in their hearts

Where God alone can see

© Janet

 Hope is like the sun, which, as we journey toward it, casts the shadow of our burden behind us.
Samuel Smiles

Of Valleys and Fathers

I have not walked in your valley
Nor you in mine
But it is the same grace and mercy
That brings the sunshine
Your valley may be longer and darker
Mine may be still yet to come
But it is the very same Father
That leads all of His children Home

Janet Martin

Yes, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death
I will fear no evil; for Thou art with me
Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me. Psalms 23

Whispers of Hell

When fiendish winds crackle

And seep through the walls

When anger, resentment

Hang like smoke in the halls

When kindness and patience

Have been snuffed by the flame

Of cold self-indulgence

Indifference and blame
When silence replaces
The echo of laughter
And jealousy graces
The once love-lit rafter

When all that is given

From our gracious Lord

As a foretaste of Heaven

Is crassly ignored

When prayer is neglected

And His Word as well

Then glimpses of Heaven

Become whispers of Hell

© Janet Martin

We all have bad days, but God forbid they out-number the good...

and God forbid we should seek hope without Him~

 But if serving the LORD seems undesirable to you, then choose for yourselves this day whom you will serve, whether the gods your ancestors served beyond the Euphrates, or the gods of the Amorites, in whose land you are living. But as for me and my household, we will serve the LORD.”Joshua 24:15

Behind the Gray...

After almost a week of gray...

 We are ready for this! I felt Mozart's Requiem as the sun broke through! Click the wheel on the mouse on link
.http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zi8vJ_lMxQI&feature=related

And when at last the clouds pass by

There is no violent shudder

Or grand announcement from the sky

To shout that it is over

The shroud that clothes the lofty spire

In dull and leaden silence

With obscure breath from heaven’s choir

Dissolves in glorious brilliance

© Janet Martin

...and so it is with life.

Behind every cloud is the Son.

  LORD, our Lord,
how majestic is your name in all the earth!
You have set your glory in the heavens.Ps. 8:1

Comrades

Slip not your hand in mine to lead

Or with intent to tether

But if you would a comrade be

Then let us walk together

Hold me close, not to restrain

Or as affection’s duty

But may our hearts and hands remain

United in love’s beauty

Slip not your hand in mine to lead

Or with intent to follow

But side by side, together we

Will face life’s mantled hollow

© Janet Martin

Definition of comrade:

1. A companion who shares one's activities or is a fellow member of an organization.
2. A fellow soldier or serviceman.

Ethereal Pastures

 I took this photo one morning last summer, across the field behind our house...

They leave

Not all at once

And never entirely

But, from wide-eyed

And apprehensive

Kindergarten child

To the 'standing eye-to-eye child'

They begin leaving

And continue

To leave us

Subtly, swiftly

Moments dissolve

Into years, gathering behind us

In an ethereal mist.

These precious,

Oh so precious

Pieces of ourselves
Are leaving

And sometimes in the happy

Bustle of life

We forget

They are leaving

But only a little at a time

And never

Entirely or

Forever

© Janet Martin

I was thinking these thoughts as I heard our oldest daughter, Emily

leaving early this morning…and my mind wandered through ethereal past.

Where does it go…time? and suddenly I am excited to drink in the present moment

before it too slips away to ethereal pastures.

Then Laurie’s comments at RGMIT which most parents can

relate to, really tied into my thoughts.

Laurie’s prompt: Use the words ethereal

Emily reminded me that she will be twenty in 4 mos.
Twenty years pass incredibly fast!
It reminded me of a Kenny Roger's song... 

Tea Time

It’s that dip in the day

When afternoon slips away

But it is not quite yet eve

When the sharp-tongued wind

Slouches low behind

Another day slowly taking leave

This is cup’o tea hour

This is ‘stop, smell the flower’

This is dream anything that you please

Tangle your thought with mine

No, I really don’t mind

The way that you whisper and tease

I’ll just close my eyes

In a brief paradise

Flavored with hot chamomile

In that dip in the day

As we slip away

And do nothing for a little while

© J~

Even if its just 5 minutes…STOP! Close your eyes

Smell the flowers, or the cookies,
 whatever it is you like to smell ;))

Prayer-lets

It is a frightening thing to live…

…in tomorrow

God, teach me to live fully in today.

I didn’t know what to do

So I prayed

Without prayer

I had nothing

And with it:

I have everything

God bless our home…

…and those without

If I followed Your footprints, Jesus

Would I really choose to go?

The Son of Man had nowhere to lay His head.

The mind is a gathering place

For thought vast as an ocean

God, fill it with Your goodness

And purest devotion

Janet~

Universal Quest

 

image source: wikipedia

What spurs the soldier onward?

Or the miner in jaws of dirt

What drives the laborer forward?

What adds true worth to our work?

What calls the wayward drifter?

Or the sailor out of the storm

What is this universal quest?

Why, it’s one small syllable-

Home

© Janet Martin