Summer Getaway...

Brush of breezes tickles treetops

Rush of ripples sighs

Ruffling sheen of silver-green

Against azure skies

Sunbeam-frazzled stars bedazzle

Diamond-studded lake

Shriek of gull and children lull

Dreamers half-awake

Catch of phrases, laughing faces

Sand between tanned toes

Sailors, surfers, strollers, loafers

Sea-song ebbs and flows

Pages linger between fingers

Book-worlds bob and blur

Beach umbrellas bloom, reds, yellas,

Waves-swells melt and slur

Beauty teases, duty eases

Its grip on today

Clocks forgiven, dock-end heaven

Summer getaway

© Janet Martin

Summer-sweep

With the last week of July underway

summer's swift sweep/leap is becoming increasingly tangible...

Wild grapevine climbs the fence

Bliss is a tendril caught...

Where summer brims with poetry

Like a fruit-laden plate...

The beach at dusk is grand

A speechless 'my-oh-my'

A wild, wind-wave-tossed wonderland

Of sand and sea and sky...

Wild grapevine climbs the fence

Bliss is a tendril caught

On the barbwire of consequence

Threading freedom of thought

Thought wanders, fancy free

So much to contemplate

Where summer brims with poetry

Like a fruit-laden plate

The fruit of toil is sweet

Cherry, blueberry, peach

Afternoon rolls across bare feet

Like waves across a beach

The beach at dusk is grand

A speechless 'my-oh-my'

A wild, wind-wave-tossed wonderland

Of sand and sea and sky

The sky is its own world

A burgeoning buffet

Glory's declaration unfurled

In blue-blush-swirled, mauve-gray

In ripe yellow and red

Earth echoes heaven's hymn

To overflow the garden bed

As seed and bud-berths brim

...with fresh five-star cuisine

Veggie charcuterie

Hollyhock bistros, pink and green

Beckon to honeybee

...as cricket-balladeers

Kindle tugs, bittersweet

Because we know what disappears

With each rippled tweet-tweet

Sunshine steeps soul and skin

Gold seeps into each pore

Where happiness cannot begin

To tally Delight’s score

While heights of summer pale

Like petals, bright but brief

While flower laden frigates sail

Where death is always chief

...while milestones beck and blur

Sun-sparkles on life's sea

To catch our breath before summer

Becomes a memory

...let's savour without guilt

Without apology

An afternoon spread on a quilt

Beneath a picnic-tree

© Janet Martin

...with fresh five-star cuisine

Veggie charcuterie...

Hollyhock bistros, pink and green

Beckon to honeybee...

Summer Sunday

 

Bored breeze tousles walnut tresses

Fancy takes a flying leap

Through blue welkin wildernesses

Dotted with fluffy cloud-sheep

Wonder wanders like a poet

Looking for Lyric to snare

Wafting winsomely as though it

Winks at ink-besotted stare

Workweek weariness forgiven

Summer-Sunday, sweet reward

Grants a glimm’ring glimpse of heaven

As lust for life is restored

Woodland cast composes music

Masterpiece of lisps and sighs

Blue backdrop for green mosaics

…Mosquitoes mar paradise

Queen Ann’s lace trims dusty collars

On earth’s summer-Sunday best

Over wheat field skims the swallow (never could quite capture the swallow)

Fledglings wrestle in the nest

Zephyr strums loose-strife and daisy

Book and reader become one

Bumbling bee hums, hazy, lazy

Melodies in monotone

Summer Sunday, sweet siesta

From six days of toil’s staid toll

Summer Sunday, fine fiesta

Rests the body, feeds the soul

Bored breeze tousles treetop tresses

Plays a soft and sleepy tune

Loveliest of happiness-es

Summer Sunday afternoon

© Janet Martin

Poem without photo-interruptions...

Bored breeze tousles walnut tresses

Fancy takes a flying leap

Through blue welkin wildernesses

Dotted with fluffy cloud-sheep

Wonder wanders like a poet

Looking for Lyric to snare

Wafting winsomely as though it

Winks at ink-besotted stare

Workweek weariness forgiven

Summer-Sunday, sweet reward

Grants a glimm’ring glimpse of heaven

As lust for life is restored

Woodland cast composes music

Masterpiece of lisps and sighs

Blue backdrop for green mosaics

…Mosquitoes mar paradise

Queen Ann’s lace trims dusty collars

On earth’s summer-Sunday best

Over wheat field skims the swallow

Fledglings wrestle in their nest

Zephyr strums loose-strife and daisy

Book and reader become one

Bumbling bee hums, hazy, lazy

Melodies in monotone

Summer Sunday, sweet siesta

From six days of toil’s staid toll

Summer Sunday, fine fiesta

Rests the body, feeds the soul

Bored breeze tousles treetop tresses

Plays a soft and sleepy tune

Loveliest of happiness-es

Summer Sunday afternoon

© Janet Martin

It Is July

 Happy, happy July!

Our first day of July was a perfect blend of busyness and beauty...

(I have been asked more than once if, for all the pictures I take

'don't I want to invest in a nicer, bigger camera?'

Part of me would like to but I need something that fits into a pocket

so work and captured moments like yesterday's, won't conflict😅💗)

oops! spills will happen!

It is July

The month of sapphire sky and flaxen wheat

A pleasant place to slow the pace of labor and bare feet

The garden grins as it begins to burst with bounty where

Not long ago a world of snow and dreams teased our stare

It is July

The month when lazy breezes loll and sigh

And lure us 'neath the lofty wreath of leafy lullaby

Sweet summer days, thy love song plays in every flower bell

As thankfulness and happiness in perfect kinship dwell/swell

It is July

Time’s ode to butterfly and hummingbird

The heady woo as scent of dust and dew thrill senses stirred

Where sprinklers lilt with sparkles spilt and lobbed against the sky

Where children run and everyone is younger in July

It is July

Work and play vie for front and center stage

So much to touch and taste before time’s tried haste turns the page

No joy is common in July; each heat-sweet summons, pure

Each day a gift soon set adrift where morning casts its lure

It is July

Shadow quilts lie in wait for picnics, books

Impetuous hiatuses from duty’s rigid looks

Ah, we are summer glad. So glad. Sun sizzles in the sky

Zinnia buds pop. Fat rain drops plop. We laugh. It is July

© Janet Martin

...and a picture perfect wedding day!

(happening this afternoon!)

The 'little girl next door' is no more!

Today she is a beautiful bride!

Summer

Summer afternoon—summer afternoon; 

to me those have always been the two most beautiful words

 in the English language.”

― Henry James

Breakfast in the garden...

Campfire griddle-cakes...

Never pleading pardon

For extended breaks...

Fields flaunt floral fringes...

Flower begets flower...

Lily-lanterns gleam...

Smacking lips devour

Strawberries and cream...

Breakfast in the garden

Campfire griddle-cakes

Never pleading pardon

For extended breaks

Beauty is not wasted

Kitchen duty waits

So much to be tasted

On blue-sky heaped plates

Sun and shadow dapples

Green leaf canopy

Sheer contentment grapples

With time’s fleeting spree

Flower begets flower

Lily-lanterns gleam

Smacking lips devour

Strawberries and cream

Lyrics spill in laughter

Sprinkler diamonds splash

Bare feet pitter-patter

Popsicle mustache

Swallows skim dusk backdrops

Bloom lures butterflies

*Puppy chews on flip-flops

Owner scolds and sighs

Fields flaunt floral fringes

Gilt-embroidered glove

Touch of heaven tinges

Earth’s fullness thereof

Dusty, dewy essence 

Stokes soft breeze caress 

Sun-steeped effervescence 

Evokes happiness

Picnic basket pleasure

Outdoor living-rooms

Every day a treasure

Where sweet summer blooms

© Janet Martin

*'Rats' I said to myself in bed last night

after everyone had gone home and campfire was tidied up.

I hope someone saw my flip-flops and brought them inside

(I kicked them off to run a race with grand-kiddos)

Someone didn't and neighbor farm-pup did 😠

My bad for not just getting up and making sure!

The consequence of laziness...

Swallows skim dusk backdrops...

Spring Adieu and Summer Hello

Spring wanders from the beaten path

Feet follow, where its aftermath

Is snared in campion bouquets...

Of almost Eden’s verdant sheaf

Of breezes tumbling leaf to leaf...

Of early-morn and late-dusk clock

Of arbors flanked by hollyhock...

Spring wanders from the beaten path

Feet follow, where its aftermath

Is snared in campion bouquets

In daisy chains and rose sachets

Where mint and chamomile are caught

Like artwork in a glass tea-pot

Where buttercups and fleabane stroll

Along the lane, up grassy knoll

To play ‘mongst Canterbury bells

‘neath bottomless blue-sky inkwells

And time is like a poem-book

A rhyme in every nook and crook

Of almost Eden’s verdant sheaf

Of breezes tumbling leaf to leaf

Of early-morn and late-dusk clock

Of arbors flanked by hollyhock

While laughter, like a butterfly

Bobs bloom to bloom with lilt and sigh

While gardens and picnics beguile

While summer-lovers smile and smile

© Janet Martin

a bit of feather-color at the feeders today

(Not quite as clear because I take the pictures through a screen)