September, Just Before the Rain

The mist pools purple in the dell

Above the hills the ether realm

Of dark recedes; as mercy pleads

And keeps its Hand upon Time’s helm

The sky lowers before the rain

Its air, heavy with nature’s sighs

Of unshed tears unleashing years

In pantomime before closed eyes

Sedum dons sheen of autumn blush

The bushes decked in silk and dew

Beguile the heart with winsome art

As we bid sweet summer adieu

The madrigal of cricket-lay

Corn-fields like chartreuse infantry

Bear testament to Time’s intent

Folding summer to history

This path of brief mortality

Leads through each sundry season-hall

God’s kindly grace to human race

Extends, expands beneath it all

© Janet Martin

I like being outside just before the rain. 

Choosing Thankfulness

How sad to think that I would miss

The halo of fair morning’s mirth

Or raindrop’s silver-spangled kiss

Slipping from heaven down to earth

Or laughter of a little child

Reminding us that hope remains

Or else, the night wind, keen and wild

A wanderer on charcoal plains

How sad to think I would not see

The gladsome beauty of the hour

Nature’s soulful intimacy

As it relinquishes its flower

The smiles that greet me as I pass

Love’s gifts that pour in mute free-fall

Diamond of dew on every grass

The sense of God beneath it all

How sad to forfeit heaven’s best

Thirsting for Things beyond my need

How futile were my every quest

Beneath the rod of wanton greed

And while the hand of Love imbues

Our numbered days with boundless grace

How sad if I should turn and choose

The gods of dust to take His place

How sad to think that I would take

The coldness of material gain

Rather than a sincere handshake

Or mercy’s Presence in my pain

How pitiful my morbid state

If I should journey to my grave

Wasting away beneath the weight

Wishing for things I did not have

© Janet Martin

Thank-you Scott, for the reminding us of what is truly important.

Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good; his love endures forever. Ps. 107:1

Not Merely Moments

The clock strikes one, then two, now three

Another hour charms

This season slipping soundlessly

Through living’s outstretched arms

And no one tolls a warning bell

And no one pulls a cord

Imploring us to prepare for

That Great Day of the Lord

His faithfulness ignites dawn-sky

As on Time’s transient sod

We rally to embrace from high

Hope’s masterpiece from God

Upon its canvas, toil and spoil

Plants Passion’s sure reward

As we approach within its moil

That Great Day of the Lord

We prepare for the evening meal

For labor and for play

As Mercy from Time’s moment-wheel

Grants us another day

But these are not mere moment-chants

Of heaven’s grace out-poured

These moment-stepping stone lead to

That Great Day of the Lord

© Janet Martin

 And it shall come to pass afterward, that I will pour out my spirit upon all flesh; and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, your young men shall see visions:
 And also upon the servants and upon the handmaids in those days will I pour out my spirit.
 And I will shew wonders in the heavens and in the earth, blood, and fire, and pillars of smoke.
The sun shall be turned into darkness, and the moon into blood, before the great and terrible day of the Lord come.  And it shall come to pass, that whosoever shall call on the name of the Lord shall be delivered: for in mount Zion and in Jerusalem shall be deliverance, as the Lord hath said, and in the remnant whom the Lord shall call. Joel 2: 28-32

September

You come, bowed low with burnished glow

Of golden-rod and orchards bent

Whereon you seal upon your reel

The echoes of a summer spent

The purple plume of milkweed bloom

Prepares to spill its silk-spun worth

Like words and deeds, gossamer seeds

Of soundless free-fall to the earth

The dapper sheen of verdant green

Succumbs to amber-gilded sweep

Before the fire of fall’s attire

And woodlands where leaf-ballads sleep

September’s ploy, sorrow and joy

A rustic, roguish pantomime

Of dust’s display; harvest, decay

Like love and longing intertwined

Moments implore, a tug-of-war

Of holding on and letting go

As August slips from fingertips

Into summer’s sweet afterglow

©Janet Martin

 Summer is not officially over for another three weeks but somehow it always feels over as soon as it’s September and another school-year begins.

Thinking About Writing a Wedding Speech

How does one write

One’s heart in a speech

To you, who has lived our real laughter and tears?

How does one spill

On patient page

Love’s element of vapor years

Our home was no

Glossy center-fold

Of picture-perfect rooms and such

But somehow between

Life's clutter and muddle

It was perfect beneath love’s gracious touch

Memories grow

More beautiful with time

Etched on Bygone’s winnowing heart-beat

And dear daughter, in spite

Of love’s fumbles and stumbles

I pray your memories of home will be sweet

How does one write

Heart-tugs in ink

As we try to reconcile Time’s subtle flow

See? Already

Dusk’s eager brink

Inhales the morning’s after-glow

How does one shape

In word the thought

Aching where countless echoes spill

It seems the essence

Of my love

Is something that evades my quill

© Janet Martin

My folder is always close by, catching those 1:00 a.m. or middle of canning revelations:) It has been a 'fruitful', exhausting week.

 

 

Wise and Worthy

Let's bloom where we're planted! These sunflowers volunteered their presence in my pea-patch. I'm glad I decided to leave them be instead of weeding them out.

We ought not to berate ourselves

For all we’ve never done

Or gaze with doleful self-reproach

At moments dead and gone

It does no good to wish and want

What long has slipped away

We cannot wear the rose or thorn

Of bygone yesterday

So if we would be wise and worthy

Of Time’s tender test

We ought to take this day at hand

And give it our best

© Janet Martin

I suppose we could all go there, to that ‘beat-myself-up-for-what-I-shouda/coulda-done’ place, but that is simply to waste the grace of a new day!

This is the day the LORD has made. We will rejoice and be glad in it. Ps. 118:24

It is better to take refuge in the LORD than to trust in man. Ps. 118:8

Vexation of Moments

Ah Time, moonlight sighs through curtains of mist

And I miss you; this day died as dusk

Wiped its slate; and what was no longer exists

Filling night-shadows with echoes soft-brusque

Your holy game of day to night to day

Slips through our filament in mute disguise

While we adorn your moments with our clay

The fool receives the same rain as the wise

…and I must be a sentimental fool

To wish for you; secured within the keep

Of memory in past’s immortal pool

You vex and comfort me when I should sleep

© Janet Martin~

Ever feel like its all slipping by way too fast??

Gossamer Whispers

Above raven rubric of this day’s unknowns

Light tints the tresses of Time

Moments, like gossamer-gold stepping stones

Implore us to dance and climb

Here, in the garden of life’s little place

We learn its lessons of sod

Moments, like gossamer whispers of grace

Draw us to twilight and God

© Janet Martin

 Therefore I urge you, brethren, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies a living and holy sacrifice, acceptable to God, which is your spiritual service of worship. Rom.12:1