A Tender Gentleness

With all the rain we've been having the creek-beds are lush bird and bloom sanctuaries!

When daylight softly fading fills the sky and frames the hills

With colors none can imitate by He who holds the sills

Over which every day no matter how gladsome or sad

Surrenders to Forever Faraway the All it had

When overtures and undertows and throughways coalesce

Into deep velvet blue of vesper-song and star caress

When what is, is what was and what was increases its store

As twilight takes this day into the Land of Nevermore

When creek-beds brushed with bloom are tucked beneath blankets of dew

And sleepy little girls are goodnight-kissed, and laddies too

It stirs within my heart of hearts a tender gentleness

Where daylight softly fades and fills my thought with thankfulness

© Janet Martin

Time Well Tasted

I’d like to say when daylight fades

And all its moments hasted

That it, like sweetness on the tongue

Was Time well tasted

I’d like to think as dusk beams pink

Where dark will soon erase it

That I with mouth, thought, hands and eyes

Held Time well tasted

I’d like to savor mercy’s favor

…not greed-emaciated

But vow to feed my daily need

With Time well tasted

I’d like to share what I can spare

And not unduly borrow

Lest dull, I wipe my bulging jowls

On my neighbor's sorrow

I’d like to smile at my last mile

To know life was not wasted

But it will be a legacy

Of Time well tasted

© Janet Martin

Off to do some tasting…

h-m-m-m, I think I taste laundry soap!

Wishing for all of us a fully tasted day!

Equilibrium...

Rich enough to be showered with hours

But poor enough to marvel

At flowers

Rich enough to understand my place

But poor enough to

Cherish grace

  

Rich because I have loved and been loved

But poor as to never love

Quite enough

Rich, because I hold a piece of bread

But poor enough always to

Bow my head

Poor by standards of humanity

But rich with inheritance

Eye cannot see

© Janet Martin

It's true; hubby sometimes sighs and says he wishes I had a dollar for every poem I've ever written but the end of every dollar is disappearance...

I'm glad for every poor poet 
that picked up his quill
to commit to page
what is with us still!!

In This Realm of Existence...

Be not wise in thine own eyes: fear the LORD, and depart from evil. Prov. 3:7

Where morning rouses from God, mercy kissed

Where He has overlaid valleys with mist

Where grace unfettered extends what is

What will we do with it?

Where we are granted fresh sun-shadow bowers

Where seasons spill in if-God-so-wills hours

Where we are placed by His care amidst flowers

What will we do with it?

Where countryside touts its green-to-gold girth

Where harvest sprouts from seeds tendered to earth

Where heaven shouts with proof of new day’s birth

What will we do with it?

What will we do with this gift we call Day?

What will we do as it drift-drifts away?

What will we do, oh, and what will we say

When God asks what we did with it?

© Janet Martin