Tuesday, December 16, 2014

Upon Time's Season-seasoned Hills...

Upon Time’s season-seasoned hills and plains nothing is new
Yet we see newness rise to light the skies when night is through
And we see bud and bloom relent where bent limb is soft-stripped
before spring-newness stirs again where autumn-tatters dripped

And though discovery may stun even this new is old
For man will ever fit The Plan ordained before time was
His season-seasoned knowledge subjected to higher laws

Time’s teeny tick and tock unlocks newness in ancient form
Its ethereal allotment can take seasoned hearts by storm
And even as dusk’s shadows fall we dare to dream anew
Both young and old, of morrow’s open-minded avenue

Like generations gone before, we gaze with widened eyes
Astonished at the new ways that the old can still surprise
As we learn for ourselves how swift a lifetime can unfold
…upon time’s season-seasoned sweep of new swaddled in old

© Janet Martin

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;
    his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning;
    great is your faithfulness.

Lam. 3:22-23

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