Pen cannot full-capture
What thought’s spirit cries
With humble word-stature
Still, the poet tries
The cocoon of nature
Frees its butterflies
Words cannot paint Rapture
But the poet tries
With the will of warrior
Ink-shod fervor plies
Scaling heaven’s foothills
Reaching for its skies
…to unravel glimpses
With word-twist and curve
Awed half-masterpieces
Of the God we serve
© Janet Martin
I leaned out of the window as we drove down back-roads,
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I hope you enjoyed your pause on this porch and thank-you for your visit!