Drought-stricken

They died without ever

Coming into full bloom

No rain to nurture their root

What could have been

Simply shriveled away

Too starved to bear any fruit

I look at my children

Tender buds on a vine

Hungry; needing to be fed

Oh God may they never

Shrivel up and die

Because all I gave them was bread

© Janet Martin

I was cutting away flowers the other day that did not survive the drought. Beauty gone to waste…

Beauty Secret

The secret to beauty

That never grows old

Is to love beyond duty

Without being told

Man sees the outward

God sees the heart

Oh, may it be

Our most beautiful part

© Janet Martin

The Empty Night is Full...

The empty night is full of thoughts

They spill from shadow-lands

The ‘what-have-beens’ and what-are-nots’

Each vie for sole command

Of this great ship upon a sea

Without limit or form

As future-fear and memory

Clash in a silent storm

The empty night is full of naught

But moments as they flow

Not through our hands but through our thought

…the little that we know

And in its gaping quietness

How keen our thoughts recall

The hastening tide we curse and bless

Within its rise and fall

© Janet Martin

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