More than It (December Dawn) Seems...

This morning kicked off its tick-tock shaped sun-kissed socks and shoes

before I was able to complete the poem 

that burst into wanting-to-be shortly after waking...

The beauty of meditation 

and the duty of obligation

 always com/posing stiff competition!

Sometimes a poem culminates best 

not pressed/suppressed by sheer determination

but by releasing its fragments until they return

in whispers begging to be penned.

So it was today...

I began dipping chocolate bars and maybe because my

fingertips were chocolatey and my mind at ease

lines teased and flickered,  begging me to wash my hands

and capture them before they waft irretrievably away 😂🙏

On Saturday's post I forgot to flip over the recipe card 

for homemade Chocolate Bars, to show dipping instructions.

I am sharing the dipping instructions instead,  from Jim's (husbands') aunt.

(who makes perfect chocolate bars every Christmas)

Melt your preferred variety of chocolate (I used semi-sweet blocks)

over LOW heat. 

(put water in a pot and set another pot on top and let  the chocolate melt at 

around 3 or 4 temperature on the burner.)

(add a bit of shortening or Paro-wax for glossier finish.)

Dip and cool!

This morning showcased a most welcome sunrise after a stretch of unsunny dawns!

Dawn seems to wear a prayer-like solemnity where new mercies spill

As heavens pale and lift the veil that yester-dusk lowered until

We couldn’t see December’s close-cropped lea, the dark and leafless copse

Etched in stark magnificence against brilliant, westerly backdrops

That dimmed and disappeared; earth’s tiered sweeps shrouded by a sea

That drew away Today laden with ample opportunity

Dawn seems to sing! Every morning the old is reborn and made new

As mercy grants rekindled chance to learn to love as we ought to

Humbly aware of He who cares and helps us bear our shares of Must

Before we pass through that last door of Soul-to-God and dust to dust

And thus, because life is precious and Time a Very Fleeting Flow’r

Dawn seems to wake an urgent ache to make the most of every hour

….each moment rife with unlived life becoming lived; the untouched, touched

And often we forget what we beget as dawn is crudely crushed

By hands and feet; demands compete and how we meet them will become

Without disguise, the ink that dries in a Book tabling each day’s sum

While ticking clocks keep kicking off the shoes and socks at dawn reborn

And sometimes we are prone to see nothing at all but 'morn-to-morn'

…and often dawn seems here and gone without a second thought or prayer

A gift from God we barely nod at as it drifts, not to thin air

But to a page, where age to age is recording daily reply

Its telling proof spelling the truth that will be futile to deny

Then, pray that want may be subdued by gratitude as mercy streams

Renewed; where dawn is like a glimpse of Heaven bursting at its seams

© Janet Martin

And, let we forget!!!

As true now as in the days of Jeremiah's lament...

Through the Lord’s mercies we are not consumed,
Because His compassions fail not.
They are new every morning;
Great is Your faithfulness.
 “The Lord is my portion,” says my soul,
“Therefore I hope in Him!”

Lam.3:22-24

O Morning Star