On Time's Wee Bit 'o Green... Happy St. Patrick's Day

 Celebrating some of my favorite 'Irish' today;-)

On time’s wee bit’ o green

We always ‘leave behind’

Thus in our coming-going spree

We should bear this in mind

…that no one is entitled

We, kin-folk, one and all

On time’s wee bit ‘o green will pass

Into that last night-fall

*We weather the same weather

*We toast a common mien

*We’re all in this together, love

On time’s wee bit ‘o green

© Janet Martin

 * 'For we also are His (God's) children.' Acts 17:28

...our favorite St. Patrick Story

Days Are A Bit Like Dandelions

 Day's are a bit like dandelions; our deeds, its seeds.

When day seeps through night’s sable folds

In hue of blues and grays or golds

And lays beneath our touch and gaze

Allowances of time and grace

How will we spend it?

The earth and its fullness thereof

Is like a nature-gift of love

And as God fills our fingers with

The only thing we ever have

How will we spend it?

A drip-drip-drop fills streams and seas

Time’s tick-tick-tock, vast centuries

As moments slip like bits of sand

Or pocket-change, through our hands

How will we spend it?

*We pass this way but once; one chance

To touch and taste, laugh, praise, pray, dance

…a glance on Time’s brief boulevard

Its Recess-time in life’s school-yard

How will we spend it?

 © Janet Martin

When Sasha sent me this link I simply needed to share it!

May our days be splashed with the joy of Sidewalk Dandelions

“How we spend our days, of course, is how we spend our lives,” Annie Dillard

*I shall pass this way but once; any good that I can do or any kindness I can show to any human being; let me do it now. Let me not defer nor neglect it, for I shall not pass this way again.

Etienne de Grellet

Quaker Missionary

March-breaks

March breaks winter in a trillion pieces

And blows it to naught; what we almost forgot

Wakens youth in our weather-worn faces

Because

Earth smiles like a seventeen year-old in love

March breaks open the bark where buds slumber

And though it may harbor a storm or more

A door has sprung open on hinges where summer

Waits,

While gold-gray March-April-May-days implore

Tree-tops twitter with feather-black glitter

Oh, what a song in the soul giddy-springs

and everyone sings in one way or another

Because

March has broken winter's brittle harp-strings

March breaks mumbling skies into high-fives and laughter

As it tiptoes then lumbers across umber twill

Where March breaks winter into patchwork quilts, after

Eider-down

White duvets slip from field and hill

© Janet Martin

We had glorious glimpses last week, of what is to come... 

It is March-break week in Canada. Hoping for a back-drop of drip-drip-drip:)

p.s. we have friends visiting from Nova Scotia. This form of March does not yet apply to our East-coast Friends! What a winter you are having! I heard that some church-services were cancelled again yesterday due to storms.

 

Victoria and I had a sort of farewell-ski one evening last week, unless we get a few massive March-storms...

Almost Homesick, or Something Like It...

 While sitting in the pick-up this morning at hubby's work waiting...a lo-o-o-o-g time;) for this and that to be sorted out before I could bring his pick-up back home (we need it at the end of the week because Rob and Emily are moving into their first own home!!!:) my heart wrangled with holding-letting-go and missing Mel though she reassured me she is happy...for the most part.( Isn't that most of us? happy, for the most part?)

Sometimes her heart dangles

And wrangles

And twists

Hungry

For Something

That no longer exists

Sometimes she returns

Yearning

To feel

The old familiar

Now strange

And surreal

Sometimes the hunger

For younger

Bygone

Keens a

Sweet sorrow

For Yester-home

© Janet Martin

‘Sometimes my friends ask me if I get homesick’, my daughter told me when she was home for the week-end, and I tell them ‘sometimes I am, and then I come home to realize my homesickness is for a time that no longer exists’... that Home, though it is still home, feels different than it did when she was younger.

I did not reply for the tears in my throat. ‘Welcome to the rest of your life, ’I wanted to cry, but I know she knows it already…a little. Nothing stays the same for long.

Tomorrow Today will be yesterday. 

Pray we hear sweet echoes.

As I finished posting this Ann Voskamps's post came up and I realized afresh, we're all in this together; a fine-mingling of hurt, happiness and hope.

To Worship Thee

Awake and do not slumber where the hour

Is pressing us toward death’s gravity

And ere Time strips its little moment-flow’r

Awake in us, oh God, worship to Thee

To Thee who tends the prayers of falt’ring lip

To Thee who bends His ear to humble poor

To thee whose care will never sleep or slip

Awake in us worship fervent and pure

Thy love, oh Lord, is not tainted by greed

But pours to one and all, equal and free

Then wake within these frames of endless need

The want and will, oh God, to worship thee

For nothing greater can saved sinners bring
Than worship to Thee, Father, Jesus, King

© Janet Martin

 But an hour is coming, and now is, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth; for such people the Father seeks to be His worshipers.  God is spirit, and those who worship Him must worship in spirit and truth.”  John 4:23-24

Wishing you a blessed worship-day.