Of Time's Waning Ways...

 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...