Maestro

A very fine finish to the final day of May...

 after lots of rain-song...

 ...lots of sun-song too!

 Let the heavens rejoice, let the earth be glad;
    let the sea resound, and all that is in it. 

 Let the fields be jubilant, and everything in them;
    let all the trees of the forest sing for joy. 

 Let all creation rejoice before the Lord,

Ps.96:11-13

He strums the barren branch; beneath his touch leaf-song is born

From bars of moon and stars He carves virginity of morn

He runs his fingers ‘cross the strings of grass and willow harp

And startles us with orchestral arrangements after dark

…and should man’s boast play host to Self; forgetting what He grants

He humbles us with stumbles in the middle of the dance

His compositions play on twilight’s shadow-smitten sweep

In soft-as-kitten serenade He lulls the world to sleep

Then with dawn’s sun-gold trumpet He raises life’s battle-cry

And rouses us from slumber to give love another try

…and should we leap without a nod to God for mercy’s gong

Sometimes He orders a ‘time-out’ so we don’t miss The Song

He tunes the air of common care with wonder to behold

Masterpiece after masterpiece from field and firth unfold

And never, even for an eight-note does he shut His eyes

Or ever for a quaver turn a deaf ear to our cries

…but with perfect precision, like only gracious God can

He orchestrates His flawless timing to the likes of man

Holy, holy, all nature streams in perfect harmony

The river gleams; its lyrics ripple to the rolling sea

And every seed according to its kind out-pours a hymn

Of worship to the One who infiltrates the budded limb

…where everywhere we look we see the atheist impugned

The Maestro of earth’s music moves through choruses, fine-tuned

He meters mercy over mercy; lavishes the lea

With season after season of breath stealing melody

A ballad breathed in blossoms to the darlings of His gaze

A bluebell benediction and a harvest hymn of praise

… a wind-song, rain-song, sea-song, love song’s languid ebb and flow

To cheer the pioneer with hope as by His grace we go

© Janet Martin

Ode to Seasons

Rose would have loved an 'ode to rhubarb'; I opted for an ode to seasons because my personal relationship with rhubarb has not inspired an ode-worthy response. 

Maybe, however, after trying her Rhubarb-strawberry Scone recipe (which looks amazing), 

I might burst forth in a rhubarb-hallelujah ode😋

They rouse in humankind the luxury of ‘likelihood’

We wait, like children at a gate; they garnish field and wood

…and orchard slopes and garden nooks with hope’s rekindled flame

As season yields to season; each with its own claim to fame

Time’s invitation to glad expectation is a gift

An elemental kaleidoscope of colour set adrift

Where we, the meek recipients of nature’s bursting loom

Collect ribbons of rainbow tossed to fruit and flower-plume

Ho, ho, the ebb and flow of dawn to dusk turns a grand wheel

It seals with hold-and-letting-go fond echoes to a reel

Where, in thought’s tender looking back we learn to look ahead

And revel in each season’s joy rather than doleful dread

The lamplighter of laughter through the aftermath of years

Keeps the hunger of youth intact though its face disappears

And keens with humble, holy gratefulness our touch and taste

Knowing how soon the boon of Season yields to moment-haste 

A free-for-all fine festival of fare to celebrate

A work of art to cheer the heart or common dinner plate

A Hallelujah-hymn, where branches brim then dim until

The barren tree etched on rose dusk rouses a sad, sweet thrill

© Janet Martin

Mr. May or May-cents...

Mr. May is one of those guys we wish

we could grab by his coat-tails

and pinch them in the door so he’ll stay a while longer…

Each treetop wears a chartreuse crown and gown of glorious green

A chattering of yellow rambles through yard, field and fence

Where ev’ry frond is like a prince and ev’ry flow’r a queen

And ev’ry moment, like a shiny come-and-spend-me cents

The birthplace of man’s woe wears wonder’s gladdest grin-and-bear

The air pours heaven’s elixir through skin and bone to hearts

And hope is like a pansy’s pretty smile, from ear to ear

The breeze sighs ‘snow is but a dream’ after winter departs

Earth’s living-room of bird and bloom and grass and garden nooks

Delights the very least of us with life’s most lovely joys

Heaven can wait when May opens its gates of warbling brooks

And all the things we hungered for beneath white-wreathed decoys

May makes us mindful of perennial truth; storms come to pass

And ‘nothing stays the same for long’ oh, look, first flowers fall

Where pageantry of posies pours through Time’s primed hour-glass

And soon the petal-snows of summer strew halls, autumnal  

© Janet Martin

To-do List

Some to-do lists, if we keep busy are not too hard...
 

(Hopefully on this almost-June day we can find lots of outdoor chores!)

This is a super-duper perk of childcare!
Lots of outdoor 'chores'...

...some to-do lists are impossible on our own!

To love, not just by word and speech

But in action and truth

To remember our creator

In both older age and youth

To turn the other cheek and speak

In meek and gentle grace

Like He who answered not a word

Though spat upon his face

And unjustly accused, yet gave

The gift of His own life

No explanation uttered, save

A bleeding sacrifice

To walk a thousand second miles

Yet never count the cost

To pray without ceasing because

So many are still lost

To know in Whom we have believed

All things are possible

He in our very selves achieved

A glorious miracle

To never try to understand

The higher ways of He

Whose love is mercy’s chief demand

When testing you and me

To trust the Lord with all our heart

Then come what may we know

That nothing can keep us apart

From He who loves us so

To pay more earnest heed to what

We hear; To love, love, love

Lest ‘form of godliness’ veneer

Denies the power thereof

To never underestimate

The One who knows all things

To entrust meek and humble faith

To holy King of kings

To live as if this day He made

Might be our very last

As Soul sheds what is soon decayed

For what is never Past

To seek Him while He may be found

Before Forever-ness

To touch Time’s stretch of holy ground

With sacred mindfulness

To praise the Name of He who gave

Hope a most glorious goal

To bear in mind that earthy grave

Collects all but the Soul

© Janet Martin