For June's Fortunes

The fortune of June's fount flows free

As plush rush ravishes the tree

And startles pouting infidels

With gardens spouting flower-bells

June sprouts the gracious proof of God

From wonderlands of seed-stoked sod

And prods us to curtsies and bows

That only sheen of green can rouse

June probes the bearded irises

(God always keeps His promises)

Where peony, delphinium, rose

Small glimpses of His face expose

He makes us laugh for the sheer joy

Of sun-frocked girl and barefoot boy

And lures us to the sun-kissed glade

Or to deep pools of maple-shade

June cheers us where the brook-song brims

And every bud is filled with hymns

They burst through dust's sin-cursed veneer

To waken worship's humble tear

June bids us take a longer look

At grand-scapes, not of picture book

And fills the hunger of our gaze

With nature’s bloom-groaning buffets

...and authors praise, so old yet new

For earth so green, heaven so blue

For He who tunes the stratosphere

That always brings us June, my dear

© Janet Martin