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Wednesday, July 1, 2020

A Canada Day Thank-you Hymn


 



For freedom to get on our knees ten times a day if we so please
For blankets spread with unrushed ease beneath a canopy of trees
For picnic baskets unpacked by three-year-old happiness run wild
For fearless laughter sparkling skyward between mother and her child

For living without giving second thought to constant hunger pangs
A world outside each window, beckoning, without barbed wire fangs
For leisure hours among flowers that no gardener can tame
For the innocence of wonder no matter our age or name

For the beauty of life’s Duties in the trench of home, sweet home
For words like ‘we’ and ‘together’ to weather whatever may come
For family vacations whether one week or an afternoon
For special celebrations or the ordinary, gone too soon

For liquid diamonds splayed against backdrops of blue, after the splash
For bills to pay and chores to do and God, where hope and heartache clash
For more than we deserve, without reserve, goodness out-poured
For freedom to linger over a cup of tea, we thank Thee, Lord

For neighbours who are friends and ‘love thy neighbours’ flawless law
For New-day’s faithful second chance that mercy grants to humbled awe
For we-who-once-were-younger feeling comfortable in older skin
For breezes that lilt across leaves like bow over a violin

For masterpiece montages played on earth’s eastward and westward edge
Oh Lord, my God, when we see these we vow to keep faith’s earnest pledge
If these are but the outer fringes of what none have seen or heard
For welkin-inkwells, grass-blade quills, where poetry spills undeterred

For Favor bending over backwards to save us from ourselves
For rain-bejeweled woodlands hosting mushroom-sized fairies and elves  
For we who are our own worst enemy and yet our most devoted friend
For bygones we would change except for what they taught us in the end

For the fine art of love in spite of highest highs and lowest lows
For the divine partaking of heart-breaking thorn and healing rose
For quaking grit and shaking ‘sit’ as teenagers learn how to drive
For this and so much more, dear Lord we are thankful to be alive

For time that takes its tender toll but always only day by day
For morning-tides that roll the crumpled charge of yesterday away
For plain cocoons that hold and unfold butterflies and petal-wings
For this and so much more dear Lord, the dazzled poet sings and sings

© Janet Martin





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I hope you enjoyed your pause on this porch and thank-you for your visit!