Wednesday, January 31, 2018

A Good Song

Matt suggested I give this guy's music a listen because he thought I would like it...I do!

I hope you do too...I got choked up when,
after I sent a few songs to Dave and Karen they messaged back...listen to The Toolbox.
Especially meaningful after the year my carpenter brother Dave had.
Last week the surgeon told him surgery on his shoulder would be pointless...the tears are too large.
They are hopeful given time, that it may get stronger. At this point he uses the 'better' arm to lift the 'worse' one. Karen's INR's continue to be monitored.I know they appreciate continued prayers.

Music can lower the foothills of heaven
It can wake whispers sealed deep in our skin
Like a good love it makes life worth the livin’
Touches a sweet soul-chord somewhere within

A good song can move us across common dance-floors
Gather us into hope's wide open arms
Then, as it holds us, no matter the life-wars
One can get lost in Tchaikovsky or Brahms

It can move mountains (if but for a moment)
Rush in a river of cadence and rhythm
Breath-stealing beauty of an old sacred hymn

Sometimes we laugh, full of joy-crazy hunger
Sometimes we listen just so we can cry
I’ll take a good song over purchased plunder
It rouses wonder that money can’t buy

Let's take a load off; night, blow out your candles
Come, let's lay back on a pillow of awe
Close our eyes, paradise trembles in Handel’s
Chorus of Messiah's Hallelujah

© Janet Martin

January Exits...(believe it or not)

Can you believe it?!
January 2018 in a few Jack-Frost-feather-weight hours is gonzo, done, natta, nix!

From the grip of old Man Winter
One allotted era slips
January's Jack Frost feathers
Free-fall from his fumbling fist

Eiderdown and raging tempest
Waft and wail o’er frozen fell
January, like a house-guest
Tips his hat and bids farewell

One month less now bars the gateway
Leading to spring’s flower-show
January, bows and makes way
For successors psyched with snow

But like we, their days are numbered
Old Man Winter feels his age
January, unencumbered
Tap dances from center-stage

Ordered by a Higher Maestro
He exits without protest
January, Mr. Ice-Snow
Expects no encore request

He has fulfilled his cold calling
Some applaud him, others seethe
January, love or hate him
Leaves behind ch-ch-ch-attering teeth

© Janet Martin

Winter Dessert-Buffet

Somewhere in the sky-kitchen the sugar spilled!
 As much as I love a sere canvas called Sheer Sunday

I love the white fluff winter is known for;-) like Monday
 (the below photos from the archives because I was sick a-bed Monday 
and totally astonished at the transformation that took place meanwhile...)

There is just something that 'feels right' when winter is white!

Earth is a tea-tray of white, sparkling truffles
Who in the world could dream up such delight
Scattered at random on linen-clothed tables
Drawing the eye to each sumptuous bite

Earth is a strudel dipped in fine white sugar
Teasing the taste-buds of sight with its sheen
Making us leap for joy, just because winter
Covers the world in furls fit for a queen

Earth is a white-dusted cruller , a cream-puff
Earth is a Portuguese Pillow, oh my
Hold out your tongue, catch a crumb of its white stuff
Then let it melt in a want-for-naught sigh

Earth is a dollop of whip cream on pudding
It is a marshmallow-garnished melee
Come, grab a no-guilt thirds-please slice of Something
Don't just strut by with a gruff 'no-siree'

Earth is a sweet treat with white frosted drizzle
Some stiff-necked diners cringe and shudder ‘nay
Some of us linger for just one more nibble
Knowing what warm winds do to its buffet

© Janet Martin

Tuesday, January 30, 2018

Savoring The Ordinary!

Being sick always makes me crave regular or not-so-regular day-to-day Duties Beauties manure-scooping(yup!) on Saturday afternoon
after hubby came back from a particularly draining trip
 and even though he worked circles around me (there's a knack to forking!:)
he said the company was as much appreciated as the 'help'☺

That was Saturday before Sunday-evening flu hit!

Lying in bed listening to life at a distance
rouses a craving for the delicious flavor of 'simple' or 'normal'

Give me a mat full of shoes to trip over
Grant me the honor to take out the trash
Laundry is life’s five-star favor of labor
Give me a floor to scrub, dishes to wash

I love the crest of new day all a-quiver
With raindrop rivers or snow-sequined fists
After a bubble of trouble I savor
The heaven-flavor of plain to-do lists

Show me the long way home; I’m in no hurry
Find me a field full of furrowed furlough
Let me look longer at trees once a-flurry
Still full of glory yet stripped of leaf-show

Music is more than the striking of harp-strings
You should hear heart-strings, after laughter’s pause
My, but a moment takes on sacred meaning
After whatever yesterday’s woe was

Give me a bowl full of dinner-in-waiting
Morning so crisp you could bite it in two
Give me the goodness of mercy creating
Humble thanksgiving… after the flu

© Janet Martin

 "Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning."-Psalm 30:5

My thoughts and prayers are with those still waiting for 'the morning' of joy.
I have a cousin (Wayne Martin) who suffers greatly because of MS 
He is a  husband and father...will you pray for him/them?
For hope/healing however God wills...

I just received a prayer request this evening for a young mom moved to hospice tonight!
 Will you pray too that God would be real to them in their hour of great need?

their 'joy in the morning' feels far away.

...and we all have our own list of names we could add!
Let's never take for granted, present-joy!