God spreads for eyes, a feast, upon earth's banquet table...
The waning way of orchards dapples burnished branch with red
Its weans the slope of verdant sheen where summer banter
rolled
Across the afternoon of bloom-buttoned vesture soft-shed
As hope adapts to days where autumn’s waning ways unfold
Dawn drapes landscapes with purple mist; it kindles green
with gold
Future-present-to-past weds threads into Thought- woven art
Upon earth’s little ledge where sedge and hedge turn we
behold
The waning way of seasons from the Poet of the heart
‘Be still and know
that I am God’, the very lands bequeath
Submission where the ordinance of Providence spills seed
And on this holy
ground we tread while overhead, beneath
The Hand that paints the waning ways of Time still fills its
need
…and mankind’s mouth, while we look north to south or west
to east
Drips with meek ‘my, oh, my’; we speak with tears upon the
face
That in the waning ways of time God spreads for eyes, a feast
Upon earth's banquet table groaning with Amazing Grace
© Janet Martin
All the way to and from church this morning I found myself my-oh-mying over the beauty of the earth...
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I hope you enjoyed your pause on this porch and thank-you for your visit!