Like Bidding Farewell to a Friend...

It had to be...

one final farewell poem to my friend, August

It is like bidding farewell to a friend

August's departure tugs at love's heartstrings

So we pay closer heed to simple things

Because summer is drawing to the end

And we cannot afford to miss its bliss

As August days fly upward like a spark 

As cricket-minstrels fill the early dark

With a prelude to summer's parting kiss 

As fruited vines and orchards steal the show

And we are torn between gladness and grief 

So we look longer at each flower and leaf

Sensing the imminence of letting go 

A slice of heaven slips beyond our reach

As August fades into the blue bygone

And we count countless blessings one by one

Buttery cobs of corn, and juicy peach

Fat tomatoes and rainbows, zinnia-hued 

And lawns, where shadows pooled and children played

And heart-shaped frames filled with memories made

And happiness, speechless with gratitude

I love your butterflies and honey bees

Aw, farewells always seem to come too soon

Especially for each August afternoon

That wafts away like bubbles on a breeze

'I love you August, till we meet again'

Time's bittersweet demise is bound to be

But is the thing that draws you back to me

So farewell, darling August until then  

Janet Martin

 

To Feel The Brunt of August's Kiss...

 How does one choose a few from a thousand frames filled with August fondness...

This sudden cloudy, cool spurt does something to the summer soul... 🍂🍂🍂

Besides August inspiration, today's poem is also a piece of my heart

as I watch our grandchildren, our neighbour's children,

 children that were once 'my childcare-children' etc....

 FLYING through sweet, fleet childhood!

Always a sense of letting go

Begins to tug, as August wanes

And pours a mellow, yellow glow

Through twilight’s leaf-and-petal-panes

While cricket-choirs serenade

The summer soul with stilted tune

And vistas gleam with earth’s aubade

Of misty morn, and hazy noon

…where wave on wave, we brave the slope

Held by the hands of August’s clock

That swirls hues in a kaleidoscope

Of zinnia, cosmos, hollyhock

Of larkspur, dahlia, hibiscus,

Of hills ablaze with goldenrod

While a strange sense of loss sweeps us

Though harvest heaps our hearts with laud

…as field and garden overflows

With Faith’s seed-rendered aftermath

And bare feet play arpeggios

Along the trampled garden-path

And heartstrings snag where beauty bares

Its soul but cannot drain its fount

And nothing in the world compares

With uncurbed blessings beyond count

…of menu-choices freshly-shucked

Or gathered in baskets and bowls

As day-by-day August is tucked

Beneath a blanket without holes

Thus, we cannot afford to waste

The essence of ‘remember when’

The timbre of have-and-hold’s haste

A cosmic crux/flux of Now to Then

Always a sense of ‘bittersweet’

Rushes the raw edge of delight

As earth and hints of Heaven meet

In touch and taste, sound, smell and sight

And script of ink, though it may fill

Fond phantom frames with picture-bliss

Cannot quite capture standing still

To feel the brunt of August’s kiss

To feel the brunt of August’s kiss

Is not for the faint of desire

The holy awareness of This

Can set the course of Yet on fire

With awe, where past and future meet

For one split-second, ere they part

 To Bygone's aeon, bittersweet

Like August's kiss etched in the heart

Benediction...

Dear Lord, make me kindly content

Where Augusts flicker as they fly

Through worlds of childhoods 

swiftly spent

To disappear 

in 

years 

gone by

And help me 

recognize anew

Momentous treasure running rife

In moment-measure pouring through

The hourglass of love and life  

Janet Martin

Happy 32nd Birthday, Melissa!

Dear Lord, make me kindly content

Where Augusts flicker as they fly...

August Aubade

 A few frames that helped inspire today's poem...

Gently, like a silvery sea

August morn rolls across the lea

It gilds each bloom and leaf and stem

With liquid-jeweled diadem

Kissing yesterday’s soldered sums

With essence of peaches and plums

Binding the skyline to the land

With gauzy, turquoise-tinted strand

Across the gleaming dell and dale

God tosses a gossamer veil

A sparkling mantle, dewdrop-spun

Soon stolen by the climbing sun

But for a bit we gaze, agape

At August morning’s sequined cape

God’s handiwork bound to confound

And wake a sense of holy ground

...beneath the tread we oft assume

Without conscious awe of the loom

That weaves the threads of August morn

Through mead of wheat and field of corn

And rainbow-hued zinnia-fringed walks

And sentinel-like hollyhocks

It’s shadow-shuttle rustles leaves

With ties that bind Time’s soul-shaped sheaves

Janet Martin

James 4:14
You do not even know what will happen tomorrow! 

What is your life? 

You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.

1 Peter 1:24
For, “All flesh is like grass, 

and all its glory like the flowers of the field; 

the grass withers and the flowers fall,

Job 14:1-2
“Man, who is born of woman, is short of days and full of trouble. 

 Like a flower, he comes forth, then withers away;

 like a fleeting shadow, he does not endure.

August Soul-Steep

Job 9:10

He does great things past finding out, 

Yes, wonders without number.

Today's poem began as I spent a

slow-paced day with dad, while mom

enjoyed a visit with her sisters!

I was feeling a bit restless at one point as we sat on their front porch

until I concentrated on doing what I sometimes wish I could do more of...

Steep my soul in an August-afternoon, 

taking note of all its luscious details!

like skies so blue and fields so gold

it almost hurts one's eyes to look at them!! 

August's bowers akin to rooms with sapphire canopies...

paradise for bees...

Of aromas of pickling spice and dill and vinegar 

Panoramas of chop and slice as we preserve summer...  

As morn by morn summer's milestones are met, like a parade 

Of joy soft-torn twixt grins and groans as flowers flare and fade...

And wheat falls prey to harvest blade while we humbly rejoice

In each new day the Lord hath made to give our gladness voice ...

We steep our souls in sultriness of August's afternoon

A flushed breeze rolls through leafy tress and stokes a sleepy tune

The cricket-minstrel starts to tweet a bittersweet prelude

From stubble tinsel 'neath our feet staccato cheeps exude

And from tree-rows along the fence cicada-monotone

Jars the shadows, tuneless cadence of rusted saxophone

From yesterdays beneath our skin we sense a turning leaf 

The subtle ways endings begin to dare delight with grief 

As morn by morn summer's milestones are met, like a parade 

Of joy soft-torn twixt grins and groans as flowers flare and fade

And wheat falls prey to harvest blade while we humbly rejoice

In each new day the Lord hath made to give our gladness voice 

The holy ground of happiness is full of thorns and rocks

Still August joys confound; and bless gardens with hollyhocks  

And sunflowers and zinnia-blooms; a paradise for bees

August's bowers akin to rooms with sapphire canopies

Where wonder-storms are oft unfurled in unquenched poetry

Where thunderstorms refresh the world and drench its dusty lea

We cannot get our fill of this; the bliss of August days 

Where toil and sweat is worth the kiss of Nostalgic replays

Of aromas of pickling spice and dill and vinegar 

Panoramas of chop and slice as we preserve summer  

And thank God for dear August's pleasure of garden and field

To take time to be awed by treasure-troves of fruitful yield 

Ditches burgeon with Queen Ann's Lace and black-eyed Susan-blaze

Beauty surges in petal-grace that captures our gaze

At every turn; a color-blur of purples, pinks, gold, blue

Gilding an urn we call Summer; ere earth collects its due

Of spent applause; as each day rolls like waves that disappear  

And so we pause and steep our souls in August's atmosphere

Janet Martin 

Still August joys confound; and bless gardens with hollyhocks ...

And sunflowers and zinnia-blooms; 

Ditches burgeon with Queen Ann's Lace and black-eyed Susan-blaze...

Of August Days

Snaring some frames to cherish long after August's adieu...

even if this barely skims the surface 

of one of my favourite months! 💖🙏

Of kitchen saunas while an honest canning day’s work bears

Jarred gratitude for veg and fruit in answer to spring’s prayers...

Of splash-filled pond, finch on a frond,

of dew-drop-dazzled morn...

Of cob-wide grin and buttered chin while crunching yellow corn...

Of dinner dreams where Option gleams with oh, so much to choose...

Why so many food-photos??

Because August is a month of extravagant menu options!!

Of monotone cicada drone and cricket cheep-cheep-cheep

Of lazy breeze ruffling lush trees with lyrics half asleep

Of kitchen saunas while an honest canning day’s work bears

Jarred gratitude for veg and fruit in answer to spring’s prayers

Of splash-filled pond, finch on a frond, of dew-drop-dazzled morn

Of cob-wide grin and buttered chin while crunching yellow corn

Of pots that boast a flavour-host of garden-garnered hues

Of dinner dreams where Option gleams with oh, so much to choose

Of thankfulness to God who blesses seeds with sacred spoil

Garden and field billow with yield; treasure from vaults of soil

Of rain-song thrills as mercy spills and parched landscapes are drenched

Where puddles lie like scraps of sky on vistas, kindly quenched

Where zinnias stream and cosmos gleam like gems in August’s crown

Where gladness gapes at nature’s capes, God-stitched and gently thrown

O’er hills and dells, while wonder swells in souls, speechlessly awed

By poetry of chicory, Queen Ann’s Lace, goldenrod

…by cloud-pied blues as sky-wide views unfurl God’s glory-show

By hummingbird, with wing-span blurred while darting to and fro

By honey bees with sticky knees, by butterflies that waft

From fount to fount, too quick to count the number of pitstops

While artists stare, seeking to snare some loveliness to frame

And gently tease to galleries no brush or pen can claim

A dust-sweet blaze of August days, that flare and fade with ease

To tug and smart in works of art entitled Memories

© Janet Martin

Where zinnias stream and cosmos gleam like gems in August’s crown...

…by cloud-pied blues as sky-wide views unfurl God’s glory-show

By hummingbird, with wing-span blurred while darting to and fro

By honey bees with sticky knees, 

by butterflies that waft

From fount to fount, too quick to count the number of pitstops...