Wasted Wishing...

Don’t leave me yet, though night-ness shades the street

Where a short while ago dawn teased to gray

Hope’s un-chanced moments of faith without feet

Now we have worn them; its dance bitter-sweet

...too much I cherish of this little day

Why are you eager to vanish away?

Don’t leave me lonely; this fire is for two

Time enough darling, to sip midnight's sky

Dancing with memories tomorrow will do

I am not ready to relinquish you

Exchanging touch for an echo or sigh

Trading the gild of your grin for good-bye

Don’t leave me winter-cold here at the door

Vexing my wishes with your fading light

Time enough darling, for past’s never-more

‘After’ is longer, it seems, than ‘before’

And we grow older with each farewell flight

Kiss me, but oh, do not kiss me goodnight

© Janet Martin~

This was one of those days I simply don’t want to end…Yes, because we were all home with nowhere to go. Storm-stayed Luxury.

( ...and yes, Green Gables and Gilbert and Anne find their way to our house every winter:)

Storm-song

 We kicked some niches into the ice-snow-covered shrubs...it didn't take long for the birdies to find them!

Galvanized talons, raw, reckless unleash

Passion of snowflake to shiv’ring shrub-niche

Burrow, wee birdie, into cedar-tress

Pray, Mother Nature for spring-sweet caress

Down, from deep dregs of ice-crypts in the sky

Frenzy of flurry scatters far and wide

We, meek earth creature-lings bear its bleak blast

Knowing eventually it will be past

But the conductor of this stalwart choir

Waves his baton and shouts ‘higher, higher’

Strike silver timbrel and rouse bully-bow

Ring out the anthems of winter and snow

Over the landscape its melody streaks

Frosting eye-lashes lashes and nipping our cheeks

Where is the music of warm wave and sun?

Ah, it must wait until this song is done

© Janet Martin

Faces are frosted in mere minutes!

Morning Does Not Lose Its Way...

Morning does not lose its way

Though tardy, it seeps through gray

Lighting coppice, crag and firth

Sallow orb o’er white-washed earth

Windswept, hinterland and dell

Brace against steel tentacle

Nook and hollow, alley, hill

Nothing can escape its chill

Somewhere softer canticle

Teases turquoise-bathed pebble

Purple pool of morning mist

Veils lush vineyards warm, sun-kissed

Here we brace against the growls

Flung from Old Man Winter’s jowls

Here, at hearth we linger long

Slipper-clad and coffee-strong

Morning wends from heaven-tress

Vexing night’s dark wilderness

Through its howling, headstrong wrath

Morning melts a little path

© Janet Martin

Crazy-cold and stormy...all schools in a wide area are closed!

Snow Days...

There’s somethin’ ‘bout snow-days…

How they keen the heart-blaze

Love-laughter warming

Where flame-dance is null

Afternoon chatter

Wrapped in cozy sweaters

And soon to be memories

Of fresh-framed Thankful

There’s somethin’ ‘bout snow-days

And scrabble-word free-ways

Carving out niches

Of sun-sweet July

Good books, steam swirling

Above the unfurling

Of soon to be memories

Etched over good-bye

There’s somethin’ ‘bout snow-days

And blueberry bundt-cakes

Filling the kitchen

With Green Gable charm

Ah, there’s somethin’ ‘bout snow-days

Molding their memories

…not with ice-anguish

But love spicy-warm

© Janet Martin

It's All About the Cross ABC's

Love’s

Aching

Braving

Craving, coping

Dying,

Endless

Faith,

Grief,

Hoping

Inspiration.

Joy,

Keen

Loss

Oh, it’s all about The Cross

Love’s

Misery

Nobility,

Obligation

Passion

Quickening

Relinquishing,

Sacrifice,

Temptation

Unity

Victory

Worship,

X-altation

Yearning,

Zealous

And beyond all human explanation

This wayfaring and warring flight

Is not a dance of dross

For as we weep and pray and fight

It’s all about the cross

© Janet Martin

Skiing gives a person a lot of time to think...life and love can be heavy and grueling at times; then I looked up through the blowing snow and gathering dusk to where God planted His promise BAM! in front of me.literally...I stopped short and laughed out loud!

And he said to all, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. Luke 9:23


Phil 2:8 (NIV) And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself and became obedient to death--even death on a cross!

Beggar's Benediction

How is it?

One click of a key

Steals your coy, half-grin

From me

Cerulean

Of summer-sky

Swept

To a bleak

And gray

Good-bye

How is it?

Coveting a page

From yesterday’s

Elusive stage

Can prompt

Quick poetry

Of tears

Or

Season-smiles

For yester-years

How is it?

One click of a key

Evokes

Familiar misery

‘Mornin’ darlin’’

And ‘farewell’

Falling prey

To the

Same

Knell?

How is it?

That the paradise

Of laughter

In a lover’s eyes

Dissolves

In oceans

Instantly

With one half-breath

Click of

A key?

© Janet Martin

Of Things Snowy and Sacred

When each tree is dressed in its winter-best

And earth is tucked deep ‘neath a downy spread

When green-sheen turns plush as a splendid hush

Wraps all creation in frost-whispered thread

When hope’s gracious Giver unfurls a white river

In snowflake fathoms of sugar-spun lace

When mortality reads God’s poetry

Spelled not with ink, but in colors of grace

We pause on its page, speechless and spellbound

Surely we are treading on holy ground

When white is a cape and the sky is its drape

As heaven and landscape coalesce

Picket-fence, pine and brooding timberline

Dissolving into amaranthine tress

Where every gust is a sparkle-thrust

Of diamond deliverance; each dull rampart

Transformed to a thing fit for any king

Who here can imitate this Painter’s art?

As each cheerless sprig is grand; glory-crowned

Surely we are standing on holy ground

When riot of red is shivered and shed

Save for the garnet of crab-apple gem

When bud bled bare is an echo somewhere

Beneath barred bastion of blizzard-hem

Where farm battle-field of labor is sealed

Seed-time and harvest in ordained repose

Soft, we recall summer’s mute madrigal

Of mist-mantled morning and dew-kissed rose

We touch the fringe of Someone awesome-gowned

Surely we are living on holy ground

© Janet Martin

We are in a blizzard warning; school’s cancelled, we are bracing for severe, maybe even record-breaking cold temps! Yesterday was much milder, perfect for skiing. Since the ice-storm two weeks ago the snow on ice has created perfect cross-country skiing conditions; all the fields completely covered.

The Mighty One, God, the Lord

speaks and summons the earth

from the rising of the sun

to its setting.

Out of Zion, the perfection of beauty,
    God shines forth. Ps. 50:1-2

Poetry...

I cannot run away, it seems

From thought to thought and dream to dreams

They swirl and twirl and intertwine

Vexatious, intangible vine

Until I set its tendrils free

In little threads of poetry

Summer, winter, zephyr and gale

Muse-metered murmur, raw regale

Of seeker, slayer, somber-sweet

Plethora of passions compete

Until I set its fires free

In picture-frames of poetry

I cannot run away, it seems

From parting’s ever-testing streams

Soon the enticement of romance

Returns its dividends of chance

And where a sad, old tear would be

I seal its grief in poetry

© Janet Martin