What We Are...

We will not be judged by the job we hold

Nor the price tag of clothes or car

Our worth is not measured by silver or gold

But simply by what we are

Wealth is not found in the things we possess

Fortune is no lucky star

We will be judged not by our success

But simply by what we are

Much is required to whom much is given

The road to God is not far

We bring nothing to the gates of Heaven

But this alone…what we are

© Janet Martin

Song of Praise

Oh my soul, be still and spill

With free unhindered praise

The Lord adorns the dust-wrought hill

His mercy cloaks our days

From dawn to dusk to dawn, His love

And faithfulness employs

The sun, the moon and stars above

The circle of our joys

How awesome is Your handiwork

Our hungry eyes behold

Your glory splayed across the earth

In wonders manifold

With goodness unreserved You weave

Your breath into each bloom

As reverent hearts humbly perceive

The Master of the Loom

The blind of mind cannot discern

The Hand beneath it all

The One who guides winter to spring

And summer into fall

...oh, may our hearts and hands become

The instruments we raise

Exalting the eternal One

In gladdened songs of praise

© Janet Martin

Inspired by Psalms 92

Just the Bend of the Wind...

It was just a little thing

…not much

But somehow in the bend of the wind

I felt your touch

And in the little sigh

That slipped

From the crescent slice

Of moon

I felt the brush of fingertips

It was nice

I hope

You’ll be home

Soon

J~

Thinking~

I'd like to think if our paths should cross

Sometime,

again, or not

That no matter where

Tomorrow’s road leads

I add pleasure

to your thought

I'd hate to think

If our paths never meet

again

as we leave these moments behind

It would make no difference

To you because

I never cross your mind

© J~

Thought's While Lying Beneath Summer's Tree

Too soon your fronds of gold will drift

To far-flung hinterlands

No dirge responds; tides rotate, shift

And strip your out-stretched hands

Sad, farewell words my mouth would form

Are solvent in the air

As July’s fingers, bronze, sun-warm

Seduce my idle tear

The passion of my former thought

Grows pensive now, and still

As parched strands of for-get-me-not

Adorn our favorite hill

Where long we lay beneath the spell

Of heaven-tenured June

The carpet leading to farewell

…a honey-suckle swoon

Beyond the sweep of azure deep

Unfathomed eons ‘mass

Ah, this must be where heaven keeps

Life’s moments as they pass

The bud that forged through wood-clenched limb

With verdant tendril-breath

Will soon adorn the somber scrim

Of life’s four-season hearth

The shadow lengthens on the field

Where harvest hangs its fruit

There is no detour; all must yield

To Nature’s absolute

And soon these fronds of gold will drip

Into that vaulted sphere

I feel the brush of July’s lip

Caress my errant tear

© Janet Martin

Heart-dance

I always liked the way you fit into that special part

of me; curved just for you somewhere deep inside my heart

I never need to wonder if you’re there because I know

I can feel you trembling where love’s tender moments glow

I like the way you never leave, although the past expands

Never us; our symmetry is not the touch of hands

but a dance; as two are one in pure and perfect art

Of un-penned compositions in the dances of the heart

© Janet Martin~

Here in the Little Now

We under-estimate it somehow

For it seems nondescript; alone

But all we have is 'the little now'

In which to get anything done

The filament of centuries

Is not woven by the flow

Of quantum leaps; but history

Is the abyss of ‘little nows’

Here in 'the little now' we shape

A monumental cast

An unalterable landscape

We simply call the past

© Janet Martin

 If you are still talking about what you did yesterday, you haven't done much today. 

 ~Author Unknown

 With the past, I have nothing to do; nor with the future.  I live now.  

~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Watching the Rain

It settles more than dust as we watch it fall

It soothes farmer's thoughts  for a little while

It stills anxious hearts in its tumbled descent

Soothing the restless gardener’s lament

…as it spills over eaves

Rolls from cupped leaves

Trickles and tickles sparse drought-stricken sheaves

See how it pools in each hollow and shallow

See how it cools eager sparrow and swallow

Mystical mirrors scattered on the terrain

Of sidewalk and pasture and long country lane

…as it splatters and spills

As it chatters and thrills

Earth’s stricken meadows; its woodland and hills

Life-giving free-fall from mercy’s embrace

Silver-stringed sonnet of goodness and grace

Nectar of heaven, as God wills and when

Filling parched throats of both fallow and men

…as it waters the corn

And washes the morn

Hope's wilted bloom is revived or reborn

© Janet Martin

This was inspired as I watched two birds refresh themselves in a puddle on the driveway.

It is still extremely dry but we are getting sudden brief showers and we are thankful for them.