Whispers of Grace

Golden dawn lures me

From cover-warm sleep

Night’s fabric diffuses

As soft moments creep

Over the skyline

They hover to pass

Brief transient shadows

On sun-dappled grass

Shake off wooly slumber

A new day a-waits

Pouring in splendor

Through morn’s lofty gates

As restlessly moments

Slip over our skin

Drops in an ocean

Of what might have been…

…should we fail to seize them

Inhale from each gem

The nectar of mercy

In hope’s diadem

Trickling gently in moments

To an ethereal sea

Whispers of grace

And opportunity

© Janet Martin

Friday Thoughts~

Love is a Three-letter word

Y-O-U~

Love is also a six-letter word

M-O-T-H-E-R

 ~Spring Portraits~

Oh, let me never pine nor plead

For my neighbor’s garden fair

And let me never seek with greed

Life’s blessings that were meant to share

But as each day to history folds

Oh, let me labor thankfully

Lest I should miss the field of gold

That God has placed in front of me

Of petal-pink promises

Unfolding their hope

Of green and gold palaces

Gracing earth’s slope

Of winter forgotten

On emerald floors

And cloud-ships of cotton

Bound for gossamer shores

Of zephyr-lips tender

And azure diadem

Matriarch of splendor

And her name is Spring

She shakes out the girth

Of her floral-sweet gowns

And covers the earth

In for-get-me-not crowns

She tosses her tresses

And every limb

Dons pretty pink dresses

Or lacy green trim

Fleet-footed belle

Of laughter and grace

She restores a smile

To every face

Janet~

The little guys I babysit and I went on a spring stroll...here are some pictures in full spring color!

Portrait of a Mother

She leaves her youth upon the grass
Where all her happy children pass
She dons a robe of profound merit
God will show her how to wear it
Its filament is firm yet mild
Woven by fingers of a child
Marked by the tears of joy and strife 

And quickened years that form her life
Graciously she bows her head
To wear this cloak of meeker thread

While stages fill and man applauds
The march of fame and lesser gods
She has known the best there is
In childish hugs and good-night kiss
And she has seen love's fairest prize

Gleaming in her children’s eyes
No wild applause or acclamation
For the hand which holds a nation
Silently she bows her head
And trusts God for His faithful lead

Her children rise and call her blessed

To recognize earth's utter-best
As humbly she her will resigns
To Hands which brush her face with lines
While Vanity would stop and gaze
With pity on her love-lined face
She would do it all again
To know she has not loved in vain
For Vanity with all its charms
Can never fill a mother’s arms

No great award, no Hall of Fame
To reward this humble name
Yet there can never be another
Name, as honorable as Mother
So while the buxom hours pass
To shed their petals on the grass
She will thank God for the hours
Where she tended sweeter flowers
In a garden like no other
Reserved for one which we call Mother

Janet Martin

Because of Him

 

 

Because of the grace and the love He has shown

Because of His word that will not pass away

We have a foundation of rare, precious Stone

A blueprint for living as we build day by day

Because of His absolute forgiveness of sin

We are set free from the burden of guilt

No condemnation remains deep within

Redemption impartial flows in His life-blood spilt

Because of His infinite mercy and care

Hope will sustain us in spite of travail

We have a Father who does not despair

His way is perfect; His love will not fail

© Janet Martin

Let no man deceive himself.

If any man among you seems to be wise in this world

let him become a fool that he may be wise.

for the wisdom of this world is foolishness with God.

For it is written: He takes the wise in their own craftiness. 1 Cor. 3:18-19

Coveted Illusion

While others sleep

The poet seeks

New forms to spill

Her unnamed thought

For poetry

Stirs quietly

In air

Tattooed without a jot

It's just a feeling

Without shape

And an ache

Without just cause

But to poise

In contemplation

In the midnight hour because

Time offers no outstretched palm

Where the poet can devour

Long un-tallied realms of calm and

Stolen moments from an hour

So while wiser souls lay sleeping

Poets toil in tender bliss

For that coveted illusion

In a poem’s perfect kiss

© Janet Martin

What Mother's Anticipate...

Mothers can wait for the house to be tidy

When footsteps no longer dash over mopped floors

And mothers can wait for those years of pure quiet

No shouting voices or slamming of doors

Mothers can wait for the days of no laundry

And sparkling windows with no trace of a kiss

Where curious noses press to its barrier

Because they are wondering ‘where mother is’

Mothers can wait for long days with no duty

For surely to be busy is heaven on earth

And toiling for loved ones is life’s finest beauty

Filling each moment with purpose and worth

…but mothers smile softly with anticipation

For they cannot wait for that most special day

When childish eagerness plucks for sweet mother

A humble, yet glorious dandelion bouquet

© Janet Martin

Just a Song...

If it’s just a song, then why am I crying?

If it’s just a violin, why can I hear it plea?

If it’s just a dance twixt living and dying

Oh, darling let’s make it the best it can be

If it’s just a song of cello and timbrel

Then why do I hear the tempo of time

Charting its chorus; a relentless minstrel

Clutching my heart in its rhythm and rhyme?

If it’s just a song, why do the words move me

Until I’m unable to see through my tears?

If it’s just a song, darling, will you love me

Long after the music of life’s quickened years?

If it’s just a song, then why am I crying?

Why do I hear more than its raw melody?

If it’s just a song twixt living and dying

Then darling, let’s make it the best it can be

J~

On the Threshhold of Twilight

Here is the hour of musk-tender power

Drawing the shadow of dusk on the day

Here is the hour that unfolds like a flower

In petals of amber and soft silver-gray

Here is the taunting in warm-whispered wanting

For one precious hour of fair pasts to return

Here is the portal where time-tempered mortal

Recalls dim-lit gardens for which softly we yearn

Here is the meadow where memories echo

Bitter-sweet sonnet of sorrow and mirth

As twilight comes stealing, life’s hurt and its healing

Swells in the stillness that blankets the earth

Here is the hour as darkness creeps lower

When exile is sweeter than noon’s laughing clan

For darkness makes clearer and somehow draws nearer

The whisper of memories common to man

© Janet Martin

Perfection

What lies beyond the pale blue hill

Of moments as they flow?

Why, simply this; God’s perfect will

Wherever we may go~

Janet

Trouble Me Not...

Trouble me not; oh fear of tomorrow

Unknown is the visage of future intent

Trouble me not; oh yesterday’s sorrow

Firm is the seal on a moment when spent

Trouble me not; oh guilt that would haunt me

But for the Hands bearing scars in my stead

Trouble me not; though failure would taunt me

But for the Hope as my pardon flows red

Trouble me not; restless oceans of longing

Vain are the futile endeavors of dust

But oh, what fulfillment and peace in belonging

To He in whom we can affix our trust

Trouble me not; Lord, I plead for Your presence

To conquer the demons that quake ‘neath Your gaze

When I am weak God, Your strength is perfected

As I relinquish my will to Your ways

© Janet Martin

 But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, 

for my power is made perfect in weakness. 

Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, 

so that Christ’s power may rest on me.  2 Cor. 12:9

Things Change~

a-a-a-ah! I thought Poetic Bloomings said 'take a line from a favorite movie' They asked for the title...oh well, this still remains a favorite line for the inspiration of this poem...I'll try a title later:) My kids are coming off the bus as I post this.

Things change. They always do, it's one of the things of nature.

~Bridges of Madison County~

Things change…

For better or worse

Blessing or curse

Things never stay the same

In the hour of sorrow

There is hope…

…for tomorrow things will change

And in moments of laughter

We know

They will echo

Long after

The good-byes and the tears

Because we realize now

Things change

And somehow the years

Make us more keenly aware

Of this absolute truth

We cherish moments with care

While dreamers of youth

Reach

Aspire

To the great beyond

We dwell

In the desire

Of this moment... on…

© Janet Martin

In the midst of  all change One remains changeless....thank-you God.

The Possibilites of Chance

Sunday Whirl 55

There is nothing absolute in the realm of chance

An ellipsis of maybes’;

But your cute wink and glance

Caught me off-guard

As I seek to align

My head

With my heart

Resolutions grind

To a hook-line-and-sinker halt

For something in your cobalt-blue gaze

Turns clear-print resolve to a vibrating haze

Then, in contrast to my practicality

I follow the dots of chance and maybe…

For I see, emerging from my sudden trance

The possibility of a beautiful dance

© J~

Sonnet of Spring's (or Life's) Deepening Twilight

 Take Me Home

See how the wave of twilight converges

Over pine spires to the shore of the skies

Feel how its motionless euphony surges

In earth-scented eighth-notes and willow-limb sighs

Far in the distance the spring-peeper heralds

In vespers of innocence, its wee acclaim

Beyond the hills a backdrop of coral

Deepens to ruby in ethereal flame

The brave bloom of spring-time closes its mouth

As sassy noon zephyrs repose to the south

Stillness in choirs of heavenly tenure

Dissolves life’s temporal struggle and hurt

A melody of longing and languor

Wakens the diamond asleep in the dirt

A river of moments and memories roll

Over the spectator perched on night's brim

No word or syllable touches the soul

As earth’s Creator conducts twilight’s hymn

The shimmer and shadow of moon-haloed tones

Brushes the meadow and cool cobblestones

See how the rise and fall of eve’s ocean

Clutches the heart in the swell of its cape

Feel how the tide of wordless emotion

Aches in the hollow of thought without shape

Loss and fulfillment, failure, forgiveness

End and beginning, future and past

Hurting and healing and hope coalesce

Under the banner of twilight’s broad mast

The Maestro directs the subtle release

Of night as it falls in an anthem of peace

© Janet Martin

Steal Away...

as I listen to this I simply have the 

over-whelming need to write something! 

...also this Take Me Home...The Island

J~

...is Poetry

To bleed a heart upon a page

Can be a fearful leap of faith

To taste the flavor of a word

Can juxtapose pleasure and hurt

To free a thought from ivory skull

Can be a tortured push and pull

Commiserated misery

And ecstasy

Is poetry

J~

  

“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”
― Ernest Hemingway

Of Gossamer Eclipses...

Away, away, the past is laid

In coffers firmly sealed

Afar, afar the future waits

Its mystery unrevealed

But now, but now one moment breathes

A gossamer eclipse

As future becomes present

For one gasp upon our lips

Then it recedes; a silk-spun waft

To time’s elusive crypt

Just as another, whisper-soft

Brushes our finger-tips…

Future to present to the past

The shadow of all three

Coalesce as they are cast

In breaths, to history

Janet Martin

Defining Present...
...inhaling future
exhaling past

 

Friday Thoughts~

When loved ones weigh

Upon my thought

I hold them close

And pray…a lot

When loved ones feel

Too far away

God brings them closer

As I pray

When loved ones wonder

If I care

God hugs them for me

Through my prayer
 

J~

There are so many people I know and dearly love
with heavy burdens to bear...all I can do is lift them up
to God in earnest prayer...
and He will do the rest!
But by His grace go we.

 Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. Rom.12:12 

His Embrace

A soft May dawn rises to brush

The thunder-cloud awry

Its gold and silver-misted hush

Drapes low against earth’s sigh

And from the throat of bird and breeze

Glad anthems tune the air

Their free, unhindered praises please

The One who placed them there

Lord, tune the measure of my praise

To flow without restraint

Forgive me for my errant gaze

And vain, foolish complaint

Nature in grand perfection blooms

Submissive to your will

As flowers leap from earthen tombs

And leaf to wooded rill

A soft May dawn rises to brush

The past into the mist

His mercy stirs the unmarred hush

Of heaven’s gracious gift

Into my out-stretched palm He pours

Another day of grace

Let me desire nothing more

Than His present embrace

© Janet Martin

 May the words of my mouth 

and the meditation of my heart 

be pleasing in your sight, 

O LORD, my Rock and my Redeemer.

Ps. 19:14

Channels

Who cuts a channel for the torrents of rain,
    and a path for the thunderstorm,
 to water a land where no one lives,
    an uninhabited desert,
 to satisfy a desolate wasteland
    and make it sprout with grass?
 Does the rain have a father?
    Who fathers the drops of dew?

Job 38: 25-28

Beneath the tumbled awning

Of a thunder-laden tress

A sudden jolt of dawning

Amplifies our nothingness

How oft have we, with troubled gaze

Traversed unfathomed deeps

Longing to understand the ways

Of One who never sleeps

But as we search the astral plains

From porticos of dust

He cuts a channel for the rains

…all we can do is trust

…in Him, who has a higher thought

Than man can realize

Beneath His touch nature is taught

And man, if he is wise

Beneath the tumbled awning

Of a thunder-laden tress

He whispers to our longing

And He fills our nothingness

© Janet Martin

A Pantoum...Spring Fever

 Poetic Bloomings asks us to try a Pantoum

The PANTOUM consists of a series of quatrains rhyming ABAB, in which the second and fourth lines of a quatrain recur as the first and third line in the succeeding quatrain; each quatrain introduces a new second rhyme as BCBC, CDCD… In the last quatrain, the two unused lines from the opening quatrain are used to fill in the last stanza, with the first line of the poem becomes the last line of the poem (ZAZA). Walt’s example illustrates this traditional form of PANTOUM.

(This sounds just challenging enough to be alluring)

I’ve come down with a sudden fever

Aroused by breezes tumbling through the screen

And I’ve become an old, renewed believer

In words like violet, indigo and green

Aroused by breezes tumbling through the screen

Passion stirs a yearning wanderlust

As words like violet, indigo and green

Draw me to pastures rich with rain-drenched dust

Passion stirs a yearning wanderlust

A longing to return, I know not whence

So I choose pastures, rich with rain-drenched dust

Wiggle like a child, beneath its fence

A longing to return, I know not whence

But Father Time does not restore the past

As now a woman squirms beneath the fence

Content to revel in its shadow cast

Father  Time does not restore the past

So, I’ve become an old, renewed believer

Content to revel in its shadow cast

Oh, I’ve come down with a sudden fever…

© Janet Martin

Hope's Wonder

Do not despair

As petals fall

Returning to the earth

For this is not

Hope’s curtain-call

But its humble re-birth

As sullen soil

Reclaims its fruit

And dust returns to dust

The seed of hope

Remains secure

Beneath this transient crust

For in the bloom

Abides the Source

Although we cannot see

He imbues

In Time’s discourse

Hope’s wonders yet to be

© Janet Martin

 Psalms 103:15 As for man, his days are as grass: as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth.

To Walt and Marie...

Their kind words fall

Soft, whispered seeds

Into a fallow plot

They sprout

Creating poetry

From gathering of thought

Kind words are seeds

They strip the weeds

That fain would choke the flower

They nurture where

Bleak, dark despair

Would seek to over-power

Translucent seeds

Kind words inspire

A universal garden

Where poetry

Blooms rampantly

Beneath love’s tender pardon

© Janet Martin

Congratulations to one year in bloom!

A Young Man's Awakening...

One day it is basketball

The next day its guns

Or hockey or baseball

In the name of ‘fun’

I worried as I hugged him

And bid him goodnight

That somehow we were missing

Getting priorities right

But as I turned out the light

He asked, ‘Mom, can you pray?

and mom, do you know what I thought of today?

I thought of how pointless

Everything is

No matter what we get

Because everything changes

And nothing stays

It all disappears…’

I feel a lump in my throat

And the sparkle of tears

as he continued…

‘Yeah, I just suddenly thought

of how useless life is

if we don’t have God…’

 

Mom. Otherwise known as Janet~

Matthew turns 14 today.

Willing...

I would be willing to drink for a while

The warm mellow, yellow

Of May’s genteel smile

And I would be willing to let the hour pass

Lounging on pillows

Of earth-scented grass

Beneath budding tresses of willow-tree sigh

The back-drop an azure

And cloud-coddled sky

Where nothing would wander from this perfect spot

But the pleasures I ponder

In the garden of thought

© Janet Martin

Temple or God?

  

Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your bodies. 1 Cor. 4: 19-20

I flip through a myriad

Of glossy facade

And I wonder if our bodies

Are a temple

Or god

No mention made

Of the heaven-breathed dust

As air-brushed perfection

Arouses our lust

Look ten years younger!

Feel like twenty-four

Eat all you want

And lose inches galore

Laser to rob us

From the laugh-lines of life

There is Botox to numb

Or transformation of knife

Because looking your age

Is becoming a crime

None should surrender

To the soft touch of time

Cosmetics to paint

What cannot be ‘helped’

A vitamin drink

Is a miracle, gulped

Bleach, dye, remove

We are commodities

In the world’s most thriving

Of industries

As photo-shop images

Seduce the mind

In a quest that is hopeless

For we cannot find

Life’s rich contentment

In this transient facade

If our body becomes

Not the temple, but

A god…

© Janet Martin

Yes, I totally believe in taking care of our bodies…

because they are ‘a temple…’

God, let me not be so consumed by it that it becomes a god…

Thank-you Glynis...

Without the encouragement and editing
of a friend, kind and dear
The article I attempted
would not be here...

Janet Martin

Greatest

We shall overcome

Not by the merit

Of what we have done

But because of He

Who abides within

As He sets us free

From the power of sin

Thus by His Grace

He fills us with worth

For greater is He

Than any on this earth

Who ever were

Or yet will be

Greater

Oh, greater

Much greater is He

© Janet Martin

You, dear children, are from God and have overcome them, because the one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world. 1 John 4:4

Hallowed Might

Over the foot-path of time-weathered sod
Onward and upward and homeward we plod
Many a danger and many a care
And many an angel attending our prayer

Into Your hands oh God, we place our trust
We are frail creatures of longing and dust
But You promise mercy that never shall cease
Your tender assurances whispering peace

Take our fear, God, remove our doubt
Be our Vision within and without
For You never leave us; we never escape
Your tender visage in each breath we take

Kind, tender shepherd, may each precious sheep
Heed to your Voice and the watch that You keep
May it bring us comfort; in life's darkest night
As we feel the Presence of hallowed might

Janet

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death
I will fear no evil,
for Thou art with me.
Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me. Ps. 23:4

April's Demise

We welcome it today

Ten thousand circle-kisses

Silver-gray

Fading out the

Lingering fringes

Of April’s demise

Settling vagabond dust

In a green paradise

As bud-vaults expand

Into venturing leaves

Softening the land

Still cradling seeds

Washing the world

In a river of gray

As April fades into

The embrace of May

© Janet Martin

On the last day of April we are enjoying our first true April Shower...we have had  brief periods of rain but nothing that lasted even an hour! This is a good 'soak-er'! thank-you God.

A Parent's Advice...

My dears, these are not merely ‘parental recitals’

That we compose for your indulgence

But they are a proffering of hind-sight

From life's biter-sweet divulgence

The 'advice' we seek to give you

Is not invented for your torment

But rather, with hope that its whisper

Will be a cherished, worthy instrument

My dears, though you may think we’re out-dated

And don’t really grasp today’s truth

The generation gap is a bridge of experience

Back to untried wisdom of youth

Dream on youth’s grand, blue ocean

Sail for that uncharted realm

But keep our whisper within your reach

And remember Who abides in the helm

© Janet Martin

Reflectively Yours...

Poetics Aside asks us to write a fading away poem

When the bitter-sweet pangs of parting

Have eased their grip on my heart

When the tears that threaten behind my smile

Have quietly played their part

When the sound of the door as it closes

And the click of the latch as it locks

Leaves me with nothing but memories

And the perpetual ticking of clocks

I shall retrace us: not in sorrow

But with humble gratitude

That God saw fit to touch me a bit

With the beautiful gift of… you

© Janet Martin

Fading Away...

Poetics Aside asks us to write a fading away poem...

I would like to thank each and every poet for
moments of
inspiration,
standing ovation,
cheering,
laughter,
soft smiles,
sentimental smiles,
lingering long, after…
the heart-lurch,
the heart-clench,
the sob,
the tear,
the o-o-o-h,
the a-a-a-a-h,
the yes,
my dear,
the tender, blissful
mouthful of
sigh…
for we all know
this
is
not
good-bye
but only
until we meet
on
the
next
street…
see you around the corner:)

Janet

Problem Areas

 Poetics Aside asks us to write a problem poem.

You assume you know

Why I do what I do

But the problem is, honey

I assume with you too

And in the end the problem

Is plain you see

It makes an a**

Of u and me =assume

There’s so much to do

And so little time

Especially when the lure

Of word and rhyme

Draws me from the rigidness

Of toil and duty

To discover the same words

In a new form of beauty

And that can be a problem

As the clock strikes three

And work remains undone

Because poetry

Has erased common logic

And common sense

But I seek no excuses

To aid my defense

For I am in love

With limitless art

As the gathering of thought

Spills from the heart

© Janet Martin

Friday Thoughts~

The future is never what we imagine

For better

Or worse

…but some Day

It will be

The things we hold dearest

are those we make time for

Some tears

poetry will not appease

Some poetry

tears will not appease

You bent, a mere boy

to tie your shoes

and stood

a man

We wait…

…because that is what love does

Life slips by

In moments

Moments slip by

In life

We cannot choose

The unknown, hid from view

But we can choose consequence

In the deeds that we do

There are moments

That can never be sweet

Such as the tainted victory

Of The Cheat

We cannot fool God

But a fool will fool himself

Into thinking he can

Dare to stand brave for this out-dated truth

Virtue and purity in the days of your youth

Janet~

Cleaning gives a person a

 lot of thinking time...

The Trouble Is...Time

 Poetics Aside Prompt: The Trouble Is...

There are endless life-rituals to perform

But today, when I studied you

Suddenly, my heart turned achy-sweet warm

And in that instant I knew

That no matter what pushes to the fore-front

Clamoring for attention

I must stop and really look at you

I must stop and really listen

Because no matter how often they tell us

That life is short and time flies

It is easy to get all caught up

In materialistic little lies

And before you know it, another day

Dissolves in the molten west

And most of what we have accomplished

Follows in its steps

Because the trouble is, excuses never excuse

They never exonerate the past

We all are given twenty-four hours to use

Before its shadow is cast

And the best that we can hope for

Is God’s gracious second chance

Another day to hope and pray

To laugh and love and dance

And trust that in its music and muddle

We leave a kind legacy

Because Time is a perpetual trickle

And does not wait for you or me

But slips to the eternal bygone

A flicker, a whisper, a gasp

So stop, really look and listen

Before present-gifts slip from our clasp

© Janet Martin

The Trouble is...

Poetics Aside asks us to write a The Trouble Is...poem.
 

I would have been there

But I was here,

You see?

Because the trouble

My dear, is

There is only one me

© Janet Martin

He made it to the next round!
We are rooting for you Shayne!
Love and good luck in round two!

Music of Heaven...

 Sound of the Rain

Mellow they drop

Like soft notes of a song

Reviving the laughter

Of hillside and lawn

Somnolent cadence

Of murmuring splash

Urging to radiance

Spring’s emerald sash

Silver epiphany

Sacred refrain

Sudden renewal

Surges again

Softening edges

Stirring the sod

Tuning the earths cape

With whispers of God

Like a heart transformed

By the touch of His hand

The music of Heaven

Restores barren land

© Janet Martin

Meant to Be Enjoyed Slowly~

When I read you

I cannot rush

So I save you

For the midnight hush

Some I appreciate

In broad daylight

But you, I save

For the deep part of night

To grasp every meaning

That you never spell

And to hear every whisper

That you never tell

Janet

On Planting

If you plant peas, my dear
You will not get beets
The fruit that will sprout
Is the off-spring of seeds

...just as in life
Deeds are seeds of fruit
We cannot plant evil
And expect to reap good

Janet~

In 'not-so-loving' memory of Gwen

 Poetics Aside asks us to write an animal poem.

Her name was Gwen
She was black and white
And how she would smile
In devilish delight
As the little ‘milk-maid’
Would splash and slide
Through grass and weeds
And fresh-made ‘pies’
No shout or slap
Would alter her gait
As she looked back and laughed
At the little milk-maid

Co’ boss, co’ boss,
My sing-song plea
Seemed to be lost
On ‘her royalty’
In old rubber-boots
Two sizes too small
The milk-maid would beg
And the milk-maid would call
Co’ boss, co’ boss
Won’t you hurry please?
With a toss of her head
Gwen would pause ‘neath the trees

They say there is 'one'
In every crowd
And Gwen wore that title
Sedately and proud
A yell and a poke
And a slap on the rump
Did not even cause
Her ‘royalty’ to jump
Through the gate at last
Prodded into place
Gwen lifts her muddy tail
And slaps my face

Janet Martin

This was back in the day when dairy cows were turned to pasture
and for a while it was my job at 5:00 p.m to help bring in the cows, tie them up,
assemble the 'milkers' and after supper...milking.
Gwen and I were arch-enemies...I did not like her and she did not like me!
...oh! and 'muddy tail' was the polite description... it was more like manure-drenched
at milking time if she lay in the stall and let her tail drag in the gutter! Ah, good times:)