I Like (or, So Much to Love)

A riot of snowflakes tumbling from welkin reservoirs... 

It feels SO good to get up and want to stay in the upright position 

after a few mornings of lying down again as soon as I was up...

thankfully the worst of the bug only lasted a few days! 

Still in slow motion, but at least I'm in motion!😅

There really is no end to a poem like this...

I began this poem after reading Brenda's post on Friday morning, HERE

before I was 'under the weather'.

The first line inspired by these little guys...

Thatch matted metamorphosis of finches turning gold...

Icicle-brickled eaves...

Because granddaughter is going to celebrate her birthday this year

 with her other set of Grandparents (in Nova Scotia!) 

we had an early celebration planned for Sunday but needed to cancel it. 😪

However, Granddaughter's/grandchildren's (well, everyone's)

 disappointment was cheered a little

 after being told she would still get her gift.

They did an outdoor 'deck drop-by'...

When they were ready to leave youngest Grandson came to me

 for his regular goodbye hug and kiss.

 When I told him gramma is sick, and better to skip hugs today 

he didn't move but just stood there with his arms held up 😂💗

gazing expectantly with his big blue eyes,

 so of course he got a big tried-not-to-breathe-on-him hug 

and a kiss on his hat 😂

Bird entertainment...

Robins.

Things I Like...

Thatch matted metamorphosis of finches turning gold

British accents; a patchwork quilt, laughter of young and old

The pleasure of an afternoon when to-do lists are tossed

Blush hush of dusk. Pale crescent moon. Babies. Dawn, dipped in frost

Old books that smell like years gone by; that stoke nostalgia’s kiss

Warm mug to wrap chilled hands around while lost in coffee-bliss

Nature's quieter pose, before spring flings ajar bud-doors

A riot of snowflakes tumbling from welkin reservoirs

Impromptu lunch date with dear mom and dad, while life allows

And cherishing them more and more as time its touch endows

Epiphanies while sipping tea with comrades, battle-scarred

(there is no ‘small talk’ when love trusts enough to low'r its guard)

An immense sense of gratitude no poem can curtail

A little lad, mud puddle glad where paper boats set sail

Flowers to give or to receive. April showers. Family

Enchanting lands of make-believe beneath the willow tree

A hand in hand stroll with a child. Icicle-brickled eaves

Worship hymns. Wisdom. Lilacs. Field full of hand-stooked sheaves

Autumn leaves. Winding backroads. Woodland trails. Old bridges. Trains

Thunderstorms. Horses running free with waving tails and manes

Gardens. Meadows. Babbling brooks. Bare feet and Butterflies

Spring peepers. Innocence. Lamplight. Old apple trees. Sunrise

Bible stories and Birthday cakes. Lakes, silver in the sun

Puppies. Long stretchy skirts. Winter rainbows. Workout done

Raindrop plip-plop. The humble joy of health after flu bug

Littlest grandson who won’t leave without a Gramma-hug

Bird entertainment. Robins. Rail fence. Tulips. Daffodils

A freshly cleaned or painted room. Vista of rolling hills

Window sills with flowers. Mother-in-law’s geraniums

Sea-song. Beach walks. Flip-flops. August. Crickets. Dahlias. Ripe plums

Poem-a-day-challenge, God’s glory that heavens declare

Grape arbors. Campfire cooking. Wisteria. Fix of fresh air

Lines filled with flapping laundry. 

Shadow-art on countryside

Scent of summer’s rain-tamed dust or fresh-mown hay. 

Bike ride

Music. 

Forget-me-nots. 

Mercies, too manifold to name

Sisters. 

Hot-cross buns. 

Easter. 

Hope through He from whence we came...

© Janet Martin

I wanted to mention more but the poem was getting too long;

little fists full of first dandelion bouquets

rosy faces framed in woolly hoods

a warm handshake

the meeting of eyes... no words needed

wild-flowered meadow

crisp apple (or, apple crisp!)

mellow, yellow pear

pussy willows

picnics

sap buckets brimming,

wood smoke curlicues,

neatly piled wood stacks,

cellar full of canning=thankful satisfaction

cookbooks,

supper soup,

weathered buildings,

front porches,

front doors,

and so much more

bee-butts, (their bodies  shamelessly burrowed in bloom-bells,)

zinnias, 

watering cans,

ivy,

wind-chimes,

snowmen,

okay, I will stop

Thank-you God, for filling this world with so much to delight us...

Ps.40:5

Many, Lord my God,
    are the wonders you have done,
    the things you planned for us.
None can compare with you;
    were I to speak and tell of your deeds,
    they would be too many to declare.