Sacred Sieve

Dark solitude of midnight fills the space

Where dawn has slipped to join all yesterdays

Another day of labor, love and grace

Becomes a picture in thought’s tender gaze

The unknowns of the morn have been unveiled

As hours of daylight flare to fade again

The willingness of Time pours from Love’s grail

In colors mixed according to God’s plan

Heartache and hope in half-breaths synchronize

Faith yearns to touch a Hand we cannot see

But from earth-altars Heaven hears our cries

And comforts those who seek Him earnestly

…and soon the dawn will sweep the dark awry

Another cup of unknowns in Time’s glass

We need not fear; the Painter of the sky

Cradles the sieve through which all colors pass

© Janet Martin

I'm so thankful we cannot see the day's 'colors' in advance...

Of Shorelines...

Here we are once more, once more

Our faces pointed to a shore

We cannot see until That Day

We put mortality away

Life is not futile squandering

Or little bitty wandering

To fall away like petal bloom

And die forever in a tomb

Here a twenty-four hour span

Is called a day in jars of man

But when we pass that Final Shore

No hours chart forevermore

…for then will be eternity

This thought should stir us soberly

How sad to wake beyond that shore

Somehow to have missed Heaven’s door…

© Janet Martin

 Come, let us worship and bow down, Let us kneel before the LORD our Maker. For He is our God, And we are the people of His pasture and the sheep of His hand. Today, if you would hear His voice,Do not harden your hearts...Ps. 57:6-8

Of Found Treasure

I found it there beneath the air

All sweet and summer-autumn-tossed

I didn’t think that I could spare

This thing that I thought I had lost

The innocence of sun-beam dance

First lured me to its hiding place

And I was sure midst circumstance

It disappeared without a trace

But out beneath the sighing tree

I found it there and I am glad

Life showed me unexpectedly

The Time I didn’t think I had

© Janet Martin

I have not really stopped to enjoy the out-of-doors lately. I dash through it and try to snatch beauty-glimpses on my way, but sometimes we need to STOP and find the beauty! Today felt busy, but when the hydro went out I took  time to stop, feel, listen... When I returned to the house I found myself thinking ‘I need to make up for lost time’ and suddenly I realized I felt so nourished, not by the time I lost, but by the time I found!

 “The future is something which everyone reaches at the rate of sixty minutes an hour, whatever he does, whoever he is.”
― C.S. Lewis

 “How did it get so late so soon? It's night before it's afternoon. December is here before it's June. My goodness how the time has flewn. How did it get so late so soon?”
― Dr. Seuss

 “There's never enough time to do all the nothing you want.”
― Bill Watterson

Best Room in the 'House'

Its dome is blue, the carpet green

Or bronze or frosted silver sheen

There are no walls to fence us in

No dusting and no vacuuming

A theater where, from front-row

We marvel at each season-show

Sunrise, sunset, the view is free

From doorways vaulting to the sea

No ‘don’t touch this and don’t sit there’

No sticky fingerprinted air

Its welcome mat rolls to the sky

Beneath soft vesper-lullaby

Here, with our tea we linger long

And listen to Time’s perfect song

Intoned by zephyr, bird and bloom

In nature’s grandiose living-room

© Janet Martin

Guilt-free Indulgence

It is not wrong to pause a-while

And leave undone the menial task

To drink gold sun from blue-sky flask

And bask in summer’s waning smile

It is not vain to snub the clock

To lie beneath the sprawling tree

And study its anatomy

Of green to gold to scarlet frock

…and it is not slothful or sin

To indulge in a mid-day stroll

To touch the skin of nature’s soul

And feel the hand of God therein

© Janet Martin

Our brief and sudden power-outage was a blessing in disguise... I was in the middle of canning tomatoes among a few other 'electricity chores', so I stopped everything and headed outdoors. It is a perfect day and my to-do list is endless right now:)...I'll work double-quick now to make up for 'found time':)

Sweet Hour

Sweet hour of dawn, how swift you spawn

The noon-day growing dim

A melody of reverie

Anoints the twilight hymn

Sweet hour of youth, how swift the truth

Of summer slips afar

The madrigal, keen, autumnal

Gleams in the evening star

Sweet hour of life, how swift its strife

Is sealed beneath the sod

As mortal trust returns to dust

The soul returns to God

© Janet Martin

Last night we had a 50^th wedding anniversary celebration for my parents. The parents of all my cousins attended. I say that because I don’t see them very often but I remember them when they were younger than I am now, as we went to their houses to play with beloved cousins!

They are all long past their ‘summers’ of life. But so very dear in my childhood memories!

I caught a picture of the sunrise a few hours ago and already the sun is high over golden soy-bean fields…

Of Replenishments

The sky is replenished with whispers of dawn

Soft from the heavens in coral embrace

God breathes the darkness from hill, street and lawn

Filling the morning with mercy and grace

Hearts are replenished with hope to press on

We cannot see what His will may appoint

As new casts of Unknown tremble in the dawn

Yet, there are no unknowns from God’s vantage-point

Thus faith is replenished; in weariness faint

But oh, the glad morning awakes a new song

Of replenished fervor to seal our complaint

Trusting the Hand that replenishes dawn

© Janet Martin

 O my strength, I will sing praises to You; For God is my stronghold, the God who shows me loving-kindness. Ps. 56:17

Above All

Of Flip-sides...

 

To dream is a beautiful thing

But sweeter is the view

When looking back, to realize

How many dreams came true

To hope is pure thought-gold

By it we plant and toil

But, what a lovely thing to see

It’s bloom among life’s spoil

To love; ah, this is God

Its grief, life’s utter best

For nothing can compare in life

To love that stood time’s test

© Janet Martin