Monday, April 25, 2022

Earth Always Responds...(to the tender touch of Father Time)


Song of Solomon 2: 10-13 (BSB)

My beloved calls to me,
“Arise, my darling.
Come away with me, my beautiful one.
For now the winter is past;
the rain is over and gone.
The flowers have appeared in the countryside;
the season of singingc has come,
and the cooing of turtledoves
is heard in our land.
The fig tree ripens its figs;
the blossoming vines spread their fragrance.
Arise, come away, my darling;
come away with me, my beautiful one.”


Earth starts to shed its dormant hues, where nature’s gaberdine
Of brown and gray is woven through with threads of verdant green...


Upon a loom we cannot see we sense its shuttles hum
To trim the limb of barren tree with hints of more to come...


Earth starts to shed its dormant hues, where nature’s gaberdine
Of brown and gray is woven through with threads of verdant green
Upon a loom we cannot see we sense its shuttles hum
To trim the limb of barren tree with hints of more to come

Soon still bedraggled sweeps will beam, where warmer winds caress
Earth’s weathered countenance will gleam with Mercy’s promises
The canvas where spent generations toiled and tilled remains
(We too must bear the castigation Adam’s curse sustains)

How often we begin to think that springtime is amiss
Only to be rebuffed with pink petal-confetti’s kiss
Only to be awestruck anew by ways we cannot change
On an established avenue that none can rearrange

The Maker of heaven and earth keeps every vow He makes
He tunes time’s tethered tide where birth and death’s season-surf breaks
Across the rise and fall of hill and dell His fervor spills
Merlot bud-beakers pulse and swell with favor He instills

Annual metamorphoses-es always steal the show
An unplumbed vault of happiness-es bound to overflow
Where vistas, still silence-immersed in April’s spartan scrim
Are like an orchestra about to burst into full hymn

Earth always responds to the tender touch of Father Time
She blushes as a rush of splendor rises to her clime
As monotones of brown and gray give way to green and gold
And color-worlds about to play May’s wonders to behold

© Janet Martin

Annual metamorphoses-es always steal the show...


An unplumbed vault of happiness-es bound to overflow...





2 comments:

  1. Ohh I missed this over on Poetic Asides - beautiful. I barely had time to poem until evening on most days so finally catching up on my reading and enjoying your poems so much!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Good morning:) Thank-you for your visit and all your lovely comments. I fell behind in the prompt challenges at the end because of other more pressing challenges, commitments etc. I will be over to do some catch-up reading as well.

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