Of Christmas, Rest and Wintertime (or, with Half-welcome Wonderment)

 Happy Winter Solstice!

...each window framing Christmas cards...

Across the land where summer set grandstands of leafy silhouette

And spread its table with the grace of chamomile and Queen Ann’s lace

Now, with half-welcome wonderment we wake to unflawed filament

Of dazzling stars and diamond shards; each window framing Christmas cards

Wakening hearts to joys forgot while days were dusty, long and hot

And tuning happiness with ways not lost to Bygone’s ‘good, old days’

The bluejay, still sassy and bold, home, still a haven from the cold

The kitchen, still like a warm hug where we fill dinner plate and mug

And remember fond days gone by that bring a teardrop to the eye

Where here and there an empty chair draws tender pictures on the air

Of those we miss with aching heart and then we kiss love’s works of art

And thank the Lord that He saw fit to bless us with love’s precious bit

Ere holding turned to letting go; and now we treasure each ‘hello’

With pleasure, not perceived before we grieved a Farewell-fettered door

And now we take a closer look at pictures in a phantom book

Capturing the tittle and jot that lays another year to naught

Shaping perspective with the ink of berry-blue and blossom-pink

Of dream-hued greens, of golds and reds, of fields tucked in like featherbeds

While learning how to marvel more as season’s skim time’s ballroom floor

Composing ballads, brushed with sage/age, that never bare lyric to page

But make us sweetly, humbly glad for each arpeggio/upsy-daisy we had

Where joy is purer in the wake of holy valleys of heartache

And winter with its surly bite unfurls its showcase of delight

As, with half-welcome wonderment, we smile though we are weather-bent

Embracing life’s unflinching law that unleashes a storm of awe

Soft-wafting flakes and stinging gales, feet blazing knee-deep frigid trails

To gain a pristine point of view where morning fills the old with new

And with half-welcome wonderment find we are growing snow-content

Contented not to understand the whys of winter’s wonderland

The ‘hows’ that howl and hurl the Must of life like swirls of snow and dust

Where love is always unprepared when it comes to sorrow’s soul bared

But faith and hope will always bare/bear the beauty of God’s faithful care

And as the inner child beholds the way that winter white enfolds

The earth beneath a wreath of rest, Longing laughs, feeling like a guest

In a world, though broken and scarred, touching a free-for-all Postcard

As half-welcome wonderment brims, dissolving in no-holds-barred hymns

All hail the pow’r of He who grants each season-gifted song and dance

Praise God for love’s blessings to cheer each up and down throughout year

Exalt the Name that saves us from the dread of cold, dark heathendom

Let winter glisten like a gem in earth’s/faith’s four-season diadem

The fire crackles in the hearth, the chicken cackles with egg-mirth

The oven hosts aromas wild with scents that wake our inner-child

To happiness we oft forget in summer’s leafy silhouette

Of slower pace/grace of frosty clime, of Christmas, rest and wintertime

Janet Martin

Mid-winter Memento

Inspired by today's true story...😊

 

I planned to tend to Task-demand

But then a sea of snowflakes fell

It drew me to the hill and dell

To revel in its wonderland

…where nature’s winter-wand unfurled

Masterpiece over masterpiece

Teasels with toques of frosted fleece

And whipped cream snow drifts, swirled and twirled

Each tree, a pencil sketch, I think

Stenciled and traced with white finesse

White whispers of white happiness

Rouse a reverent rush of ink

…as brook-nooks that no chill can snare

Compose somber half-ballads, oh

Its tempo, curtailed by the snow

Evokes a eulogy-like air

Where in the wood I stood, full-awed

Unfazed by Tasks I should attend

To marvel, where earth's pages bend

Beneath the poetry of God  

© Janet Martin

The Wonderworld of 'Will' or The Best of 'This'

Oh, the wonders of tomorrow...

Little grand-daughter sighed with ecstasy  as she relived

 a euphoric plethora of summer memories

 while peering through winter's window...toward spring!

Tomorrow will soon be today's challenges and joys

Tomorrow will soon steal today's girls and boys

Tomorrow will change (for better or worse) what Today still is

Tomorrow is a world away; let's make the best of This

'Grandma, why did you tape the door shut?', questioned grand-daughter the other day.

"Because it's not very tight", I replied "and we need to keep the shivery wind outside!

But, one warm, wonderful sunny day Gramma will take the tape off!

We will open the door and set the rocking chair and flowers

 back on the deck and have tea out there

and read books and have campfire suppers!

 Won't that be a happy day?!!"

And grand-daughters eyes sparkled with heaven-like anticipation as she sighed,

'ye-e-eth!! and aunty Mel will be here too, right?'

' Oh, I hope so,' was all gramma could promise😅💖

I've always believed anticipation is one of life's purest pleasures,

but let's not miss what is while we dream, right?!

Someday porch flowerpots will brim with pretty petal-plumes

The wooly-white woodland will ring with reawakened tunes

The meadow will be like a green-spun picnic blanket spread

Beneath a canopy of sun-kissed blue skies overhead

The barren branch will burgeon with hues of replenished shade

The gale will gentle its halloos into a serenade

Raindrop-waltzes will wash the world and rouse earth from its sleep

And windows will not frame counterpanes unfurled, white and deep

New beginnings will flower and blossoms will deck the grass

Dreamland’s barred gate will lower and beckon us to trespass

The quiet interlude between harvest and Planting Must

Will turn into a bustling scene of machine-startled dust

The clock will feast on a buffet of quickened hour-chime

Hearthside evenings borne away until next winter-time

And we will taste spring’s cheeriness that waits within our thought

And we will wear the weariness we had somehow forgot

And we will wonder at the way each season swiftly spills

While hunger scavenges hope’s tray that each new day refills

And we will bow our head in thanks to mortal’s gracious God

Where we will soon join silenced ranks in earth’s grave-stippled sod

The wonderworld of 'will' is filled with what yet waits to be

With tears and laughter not yet spilled into a memory

But, lest we miss the best of This that will fill yesteryears

Let's make the most of what yet is before it disappears 

© Janet Martin

Genesis 3:19
By the sweat of your brow you will eat your bread, 

until you return to the ground--because out of it were you taken. 

For dust you are, and to dust you shall return."

Eccles.12:7

Then the dust will return to the earth as it was,

 And the spirit will return to God who gave it.

Keeping 'Good Old Days' Alive...

It's another buses-cancelled day so no kiddos for childcare...

Leaving some extra opportunity to practice what I poem 😅💕

Pour a second cup, dark umber

Because I start and finish with the same stanza

 this poem can be read from the top down 

or bottom up!

Put a kettle on to simmer

Watch flame-dancers twist and jive

Let the simple joys of winter

Keep the good, old days alive

Ease the angst of hurried lunch-breaks

Like a sabbath middle-day

Count the stars that fall in snowflakes

Wake the child that lost its way

Watch the birds without vain fretting

About what we cannot know

He who feeds sparrows is setting

Tomorrow’s ducks in a row

Let prudence and leisure mingle

Home-sweet-domesticity

While chores, books and gales rekindle

Good old days waiting to be

Pour a second cup, dark umber

It is winter. Sit and nod

Sweat and toil of summer slumber

Aching feet rest, slipper-shod

Taste a bit ‘o Brit tradition

Have a biscuit with your tea

Sometimes happiness is hidden

In plain-sight-simplicity

Let nature nourish and gladden

Gather barren branch bouquets

Plant a bowl-sized indoor garden

Let winter thrill and amaze

Make music with moment measure

Shake a fist at sparrow-hawk

Practice culinary pleasure

Do not haste the hungry clock

Crosswords, puzzles, scrabble, kittens

Paint a pic with poem-ink

Don a parka, hat and mittens

Let frost kisses turn cheeks pink

Savor winter’s favors slowly

Let its flavors steep each sense

With thanksgiving, meek and holy

Drink in argent ambience

Put a kettle on to simmer

Watch flame-dancers twist and jive

Let the simple joys of winter

Keep the good, old days alive

© Janet Martin

Let's Take a Winter Stroll

 The photos present a condensed version of today's poem😊

(most of the brook is frozen but

here and there its song bursts through! Delightful.)

Let’s stroll beneath the blue-sky wraith that draws us to applaud

And scale hope’s slopes not veiled by faith to touch the hand of God

Let’s consider the lilies clad in winter-white array

And sing as glorious throbs of gladness carry cares away

Let’s linger in a theater of hill and dell and tree

To watch the brook meander on its journey to the sea

Let’s keep a careful distance from the clock’s determined mien

That steals with plum persistence into shadows long and lean

Let’s pay closer attention to masterpiece-laden trays

Where inept comprehension staggers beneath breathless gaze

Let’s weigh the weightless treasure of Now’s equilibrium

Stunned by the mighty measure of Moment’s momentous sum

Let’s wonder at suggestions of what eye has never seen

And ramble through reflections of summer’s unraveled green

Let’s trace gracious caresses that evoke a hymn so pure

From frosted fronds and tresses etched on bottomless azure

Let’s find a sabbath feeling stealing through want’s workaday

Holy, holy, the healing where nature’s orchestras play

Let’s listen to the rise and fall of fallow wind-strummed span

Until we grow so very small and utter ‘what is man’

Let’s look beyond the obstacles that mar our every days

And marvel at the miracles that preach, teach and amaze

Let’s bear love’s yoke of broken hurt with footsteps worship-shod

And scale hope’s frozen slopes of dirt to glimpse the face of God

© Janet Martin

Psalm 8

O Lord, our Lord,

How excellent is Your name in all the earth,

Who have set Your glory above the heavens!

2 Out of the mouth of babes and nursing infants

You have [b]ordained strength,

Because of Your enemies,

That You may silence the enemy and the avenger.

3 When I consider Your heavens, the work of Your fingers,

The moon and the stars, which You have ordained,

4 What is man that You are mindful of him,

And the son of man that You visit[c] him?

5 For You have made him a little lower than [d]the angels,

And You have crowned him with glory and honor.

6 You have made him to have dominion over the works of Your hands;

You have put all things under his feet,

7 All sheep and oxen—

Even the beasts of the field,

8 The birds of the air,

And the fish of the sea

That pass through the paths of the seas.

9 O Lord, our Lord,

How excellent is Your name in all the earth!

Winter Happiness

 

In case we still had doubts as to whether winter was really here,

last night and this morning cleared up any lingering confusion😅💓!

The crunch of leaves beneath our feet are blanketed with snow

As all along the silent street our muffled footsteps go

Where, fast asleep beneath a starred duvet of eiderdown

Earth looks like a vintage postcard of countryside and town

…where good old days and good old ways suddenly reappear

In tea kettles and hearths ablaze with home-sweet, home-spun cheer

…while every rooftop, post and plume are swaddled in a muff

That tumbles from a lofty loom threaded with frosty fluff

While every nose turns rosy-red while the whole world turns white

And earth becomes a featherbed much to each child’s delight

…where they, as happy as can be with eyes and cheeks aglow

Stir us to recall tenderly, childhoods of long ago

As shouts of joy and starry gaze for winter’s first snow fall

Suddenly make these ‘modern days’ not seem modern at all

Rekindling good, old-fashioned mirth as we walk hand in hand

Through snowflakes transforming the earth to winter’s wonderland

Where the first flurry of the year regardless of its chill

Wakens in us the warmth and cheer of old fashioned good will

...and good, old-fashioned thankfulness for good, old-fashioned joys

Of good old-fashioned happiness of winter's girls and boys  

© Janet Martin

Till Arbors Drip With Petal Plumes...

So many, in spite of a blizzard

do not have the luxury of being 'snowed in'.

Although a lot of snowplows are temporarily parked 

I did see one go past our house a little while ago...

rephrase-

I heard it. It was so white I couldn't see it!!

Thank-you to all the winter-heroes!

...and here? 

Well, it looks like a day of unrushed ink, 

coffee pot refills

a little oven lovin'...

birdie-watching

fire tending

and counting our blessings!

(don't you just love the word 'unrushed'💝)

When arbors drip with petal-plumes

When flowers frill earth’s living rooms

And gardens bob with breeze-kissed blooms

And bird trill fills the dawn

When landscapes white and silver-blue

Dazzle with diamonds made of dew

And green in every sheen and hue

We’ll know winter is gone

When woodlands shed their hoary locks

And robins strut in yellow socks

And brooks curl around glossy rocks

And dandelions beam

When hearths are dark and cold and bare

When days are bright and warm and fair

And we feel younger than we were

In winter’s summer-dream

Then we will look back and recall

The sweet-spent pieces of it all

The way intricate shadows fall

From The Painter’s brush

How chubby juncos thrill us so

How chickadees flit to and fro

The hieroglyphics carved in snow

Plush, pillow-billowed hush

Cheeks glowing with wind-kissed remains

The lure of fluffy fields and lanes

White-stucco woods and windowpanes

Snow-angels on the lawn

A slower-savored cup of tea

With old poets for company

And as far as the eye can see

Time tucked in featherdown

Landscape scenes framed in frosted matte

Snowman, suave in a black top hat

Bird-feeder drama tit-for-tat

Nature’s pure innocence

Beneath our feet the creak of cold

Above us, vaults of snowflake-gold

And all around the boundless mold

Of ageless resplendence

The creek asleep beneath a quilt

Of sequins, stars and glitter-gilt

The way the wind chases the silk

Of a lost bridal veil

The spartan art of barren tree

Naked, yet cloaked in modesty

The way the Artist helps us see

Each beautiful detail

…a paradise of unrushed ink

Where poets dare to sit and think

Perched on an intangible brink

Of Poem not get penned

Rousing rush of adrenaline

*When blizzards snow us snugly in

With our beloved kith and kin

And ink and paper friend

Let’s try to not want what is not

Where time grants treasures soon forgot

Beneath tick-tock’s tittle and jot

Each little day is drawn

Till arbors drip with petal-plumes

Till flowers frill earth’s living rooms

And gardens bob with breeze-kissed blooms

Because winter is gone

© Janet Martin

*Jim is just leaving the yard and hoping to make it home safely

then that line in the poem will be complete

🙏💖

(He just pulled in!)

Psalm 147:15-18

He sends his command to the earth;

his word runs swiftly.

16He spreads the snow like wool

and scatters the frost like ashes.

17He hurls down his hail like pebbles.

Who can withstand his icy blast?

18He sends his word and melts them;

he stirs up his breezes, and the waters flow.

💓