Of Miracles, Music and Moments....

Moved by the miracles of bloom and birth from earth’s vast vault of ‘Wow’

It makes the commonest of noons feel like a Masterpiece somehow

And turns complaint to Shame-on-Me for who are we but fellowmen

With call to bear each other’s care and make the sad heart glad again

Moved by the music of the rain that thrums the laneway note by note

They pelt then melt in mirror-panes and little lakes where leaf-boats float

Like golden gondolas that seem to drift at ease but tug-tug-tug

Until the Very Thing that Is slips through the grip of hug-hug-hug

Moved by the moment always meting so much more than meets the eye

Something about the clout of clocks makes tick-tock seem more like good-bye

Or is it hello that murmurs like cello-solos through ramparts

Where miracles, music and moments tune the tides that move our hearts

© Janet Martin

Even in the silence we sense the essence of cello-strain...

Rhythm and Time

She feels the keys of ABC’s to find the notes that fit the mood

Sometimes the song lilts, light as air; Sometimes it broods, slow and subdued

Dissonant resonance reverberates and jars, its art

Vexes the Maestro that is often torn between the head and heart

Darling, the days are dimming faster than they did when we were young

And oh, it seems our chores and dreams dissolve like snow upon the tongue

As doggerel and dirge enmesh, and wow, how have we come so far

And oh my love, is that a tear or did the heavens lend a star

And tell me when we reach the part where the melody loses time

Let’s make a pact to keep intact the tender rhythm of the rhyme  

© Janet Martin

I’m listening to Victoria feel out the keys on the piano while learning a new song…

and it struck me how both musician and writer ‘feel’ the keys!

Maestro

A very fine finish to the final day of May...

 after lots of rain-song...

 ...lots of sun-song too!

 Let the heavens rejoice, let the earth be glad;
    let the sea resound, and all that is in it. 

 Let the fields be jubilant, and everything in them;
    let all the trees of the forest sing for joy. 

 Let all creation rejoice before the Lord,

Ps.96:11-13

He strums the barren branch; beneath his touch leaf-song is born

From bars of moon and stars He carves virginity of morn

He runs his fingers ‘cross the strings of grass and willow harp

And startles us with orchestral arrangements after dark

…and should man’s boast play host to Self; forgetting what He grants

He humbles us with stumbles in the middle of the dance

His compositions play on twilight’s shadow-smitten sweep

In soft-as-kitten serenade He lulls the world to sleep

Then with dawn’s sun-gold trumpet He raises life’s battle-cry

And rouses us from slumber to give love another try

…and should we leap without a nod to God for mercy’s gong

Sometimes He orders a ‘time-out’ so we don’t miss The Song

He tunes the air of common care with wonder to behold

Masterpiece after masterpiece from field and firth unfold

And never, even for an eight-note does he shut His eyes

Or ever for a quaver turn a deaf ear to our cries

…but with perfect precision, like only gracious God can

He orchestrates His flawless timing to the likes of man

Holy, holy, all nature streams in perfect harmony

The river gleams; its lyrics ripple to the rolling sea

And every seed according to its kind out-pours a hymn

Of worship to the One who infiltrates the budded limb

…where everywhere we look we see the atheist impugned

The Maestro of earth’s music moves through choruses, fine-tuned

He meters mercy over mercy; lavishes the lea

With season after season of breath stealing melody

A ballad breathed in blossoms to the darlings of His gaze

A bluebell benediction and a harvest hymn of praise

… a wind-song, rain-song, sea-song, love song’s languid ebb and flow

To cheer the pioneer with hope as by His grace we go

© Janet Martin

A Good Song

Matt suggested I give this guy's music a listen because he thought I would like it...I do!

I hope you do too...I got choked up when,
after I sent a few songs to Dave and Karen they messaged back...listen to The Toolbox.
Especially meaningful after the year my carpenter brother Dave had.
Last week the surgeon told him surgery on his shoulder would be pointless...the tears are too large.
They are hopeful given time, that it may get stronger. At this point he uses the 'better' arm to lift the 'worse' one. Karen's INR's continue to be monitored.I know they appreciate continued prayers.

Music can lower the foothills of heaven

It can wake whispers sealed deep in our skin

Like a good love it makes life worth the livin’

Touches a sweet soul-chord somewhere within

A good song can move us across common dance-floors

Gather us into hope's wide open arms

Then, as it holds us, no matter the life-wars

One can get lost in Tchaikovsky or Brahms

It can move mountains (if but for a moment)

Rush in a river of cadence and rhythm

Hello love, bluegrass, wisemen-say,  Beethoven

Breath-stealing beauty of an old sacred hymn

Sometimes we laugh, full of joy-crazy hunger

Sometimes we listen just so we can cry

I’ll take a good song over purchased plunder

It rouses wonder that money can’t buy

Let's take a load off; night, blow out your candles

Come, let's lay back on a pillow of awe

Close our eyes, paradise trembles in Handel’s

Chorus of Messiah's Hallelujah

© Janet Martin

Savoring The Ordinary!

Being sick always makes me crave regular or not-so-regular day-to-day Duties Beauties

...like manure-scooping(yup!) on Saturday afternoon
after hubby came back from a particularly draining trip
 and even though he worked circles around me (there's a knack to forking!:)
he said the company was as much appreciated as the 'help'☺

That was Saturday before Sunday-evening flu hit!

Lying in bed listening to life at a distance
rouses a craving for the delicious flavor of 'simple' or 'normal'

Give me a mat full of shoes to trip over

Grant me the honor to take out the trash

Laundry is life’s five-star favor of labor

Give me a floor to scrub, dishes to wash

I love the crest of new day all a-quiver

With raindrop rivers or snow-sequined fists

After a bubble of trouble I savor

The heaven-flavor of plain to-do lists

Show me the long way home; I’m in no hurry

Find me a field full of furrowed furlough

Let me look longer at trees once a-flurry

Still full of glory yet stripped of leaf-show

Music is more than the striking of harp-strings

You should hear heart-strings, after laughter’s pause

My, but a moment takes on sacred meaning

After whatever yesterday’s woe was

Give me a bowl full of dinner-in-waiting

Morning so crisp you could bite it in two

Give me the goodness of mercy creating

Humble thanksgiving… after the flu

© Janet Martin

 "Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning."-Psalm 30:5

My thoughts and prayers are with those still waiting for 'the morning' of joy.

I have a cousin (Wayne Martin) who suffers greatly because of MS 

He is a  husband and father...will you pray for him/them?

For hope/healing however God wills...

I just received a prayer request this evening for a young mom moved to hospice tonight!

 Will you pray too that God would be real to them in their hour of great need?

Up the road a family is adapting to the normal of one less among them....

their 'joy in the morning' feels far away.

...and we all have our own list of names we could add!

Let's never take for granted, present-joy!