Thursday, July 4, 2013


It chatters through the eaves-trough
And rushes down the lane
And where the yard was dusty-drab
It spills its splashing strain
It falls in silver anthems
To still the farmer’s sigh
As from dark, tumbled heights it pours
In rivers from the sky

It sings to poets in their den
A sweeping, soulful lay
It rouses in a wee child’s heart
Sweet thoughts they cannot say
And from the polished maple leaf
It’s dazzling diamonds drool
To ponds beneath the dappled sway
In circle-notes they pool

A melody of nature
A poem with no pen
A love-song of benevolence
From Gracious God to men
A fount beyond our reaching
It whispers, soft and low
We are the children of God’s world
And by His grace we go

© Janet Martin

Yesterday, after a sudden thunderstorm passed Victoria sighed and said, 'I wish it was still raining. It made me feel so...' She couldn't find the word to describe what she felt. I asked her, 'Did it make you feel kinda safe and happy to be in the house?' She said it did and I agreed that I have that same 'feeling'. One that's hard to find the right words for. This morning the song and its feeling have returned.

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Thank-you for stopping by my porch! I hope you were blessed by the visit! I welcome and appreciate, if thought you care to speak; the value and the input of compliment or critique