How The Plump Dove Fluffs Its Feathers (among a few other observations)

Happy, happy halfway through January 2024!!

Ps.145:9-10

The Lord is good to all; 

 he has compassion on all he has made.

All your works praise you, Lord;

your faithful people extol you.

How the plump dove fluffs its feathers with no need for looking glass...

How, if we look, we find much to be tenderly thankful for

How a good book adds a touch of passion to commonplace chore...

(more about below book Here: Homemaker's Prayer)

How a cup of tea is like a gentle, pick-me-upper hug...

How snow-stenciled scenery always gives my heartstring a tug...

How the plump dove fluffs its feathers with no need for looking glass

How love’s sentimental tether binds the present to the past

How spring, summer, fall and winter, Beauty cheers thought’s countenance

And how prayer’s flight is unhindered by season or circumstance

How we are awed, sweetly speechless by Nature’s Grand Orchestra

How God teaches and beseeches mortal worship through its law

How the creature is no match for the Creator; never was

Never will be; He is greater and deserves endless applause

How the measure of God’s pleasure steals the show without contest

How each new day grants the treasure of a fresh and untried quest

How laughter’s melodic mettle fills the air with seraphim

How the song of the tea kettle is my favorite kitchen hymn

How, if we look, we find much to be tenderly thankful for

How a good book adds a touch of passion to commonplace chore

How a cup of tea is like a gentle, pick-me-upper hug

How snow-stenciled scenery always gives my heartstring a tug

How in spite of so much sadness, gladness survives trouble’s gall

How, despite shape, height or status love is still One-size-fits-all

How a morning always rouses what has never been before

Mercy’s renewed summons wows us with God’s faithfulness once more

How, the howl of younger hunger slowly but surely succumbs

To a wizened, humbler wonder satisfied to savor crumbs

How at last we learn the secret to happiness, fit for kings

Not in gimme-gimme-reaches, but in joy of simple things

How, through loss we gain awareness of phrases like you-and-me

Cherishing the fragile rareness of fine words like ‘us’ and ‘we’

How, here we are cradled briefly between two eternities

One, that concerns the Soul chiefly, one of Bygone centuries

How an almost-poem’s tempo keens the poet’s appetite

How ink-swirls compose mementos of rhythm and rhymed delight

How the Bard, kindly encumbered with God’s charge to dredge blurred deeps

Probes the place where Ballad slumbers or Elusive Poem sleeps

How the Finesse of Forever wakes us to the wealth of Now

How the howling gale of winter makes home palatial, somehow

How we chuckle while the weather throws tantrums that never last

How the plump dove fluffs its feathers ready to face one more blast

© Janet Martin

(Below, the cardinal and Blue Jay pics are from my mother-in-law's house yesterday)

How spring, summer, fall and winter, Beauty cheers thought’s countenance...

Bird-watching bliss these days as the cold temps 

and snowy weather brings a feeding frenzy!