Summer's Signature

Sweet Summer scrawls its signature into Time’s tired dust

With wordless wonder; it is ageless God who holds the quill

As we marvel anew at bronze and emerald; wanderlust

Inspires us to seek the solace of a bloom-bathed hill

…or tea-time in the garden whilst we bask in memories

Midst cricket-canticle and dreams that never did come true

We lift our eyes to touch the sighs of walnut-canopies

Its roof is full of holes where bits of blue and gold spill through

The wasteland of our worry cannot compete with God’s grace

He spreads across earth’s sod a patch-work quilt of hope and need

Then, did our wanting suddenly ignite a song of praise

To know our days are numbered by the Hand that fills the seed?

Sweet summer scrawls its signature in zinnia, larkspur, rose

Its penmanship too delicate for man to imitate

As we ponder the poetry of nature-perfect prose

 We know that we believe the proof that agnostics debate

© Janet Martin

For from him and through him and for him are all things. To him be the glory forever! Amen. Rom.11:36