Learning To Read God's Poetry

 Winter dusk warms the ink in frozen pens...

My dear, because we cannot live on poem-books alone 

We must learn how to siphon poetry from grin and groan 

And how to glean from fleeting hues of time’s momentous tide 

A ballad, born of blush and blues brushed on the countryside 

My dear, because the now to then of seasons slips and drips 

Like lyrics from a phantom pen or sighs from trembling lips 

We need to learn to recognize God’s lines of poetry 

They waft upon dusk-softened skies, they sail the snowy lea 

My dear, because, like love, life’s poetry oft masquerades 

In what seems very ordinary day-to-day parades 

We need to take a longer look at what ink-drops compose 

With gurgle of the brumal brook, winter’s skeletal rose 

My dear, because we cannot keep at bay the dying day 

Or other gently waning whispers tangled in the fray 

We need to learn to see more than time’s trouble and its bite 

And marvel at the poetry that only God can write 

© Janet Martin