If we can find without a dime
The beauty in a mite of Time
Because the sky is full of blue
And every dawn is wonder- new
And if, for no reason at all
We walk at dusk, its shadow-hall
Where earth and heaven interlace
And we see God in every place
…oh, and if we do not insist
On stuff of things to fill our fist
But gladly-awed and humbly we
Touch marvels none can fully see
Where somehow seed becomes a bloom
And Mother earth, both womb and tomb
Gathers the petals to her breast
And nudges new sprouts from her nest
And if we, a small part of this
Are satisfied to watch the mist
Of morning melt, silver to gold
In Time’s quick ephemeral hold
And do not fret but learn to live
And give the best we have to give
In every day; a gift of grace
To hold a hand, to kiss a face
To fill the air with cheer and song
And thus help someone else along
And never seek more recompense
Than time to linger where the fence
Is laden green with bindweed vine
And we are glad and life is fine
Because we found, without a dime
The beauty in a mite of Time
And in its mercy we confess
We found the knack to happiness
© Janet Martin
Don't you just love it when you read a book that makes you feel so good you could eat it! That's what Fresh from the Country (copyright 1960 by 'Miss Read') is for me right now. The inspiration for this poem came from a page in this book...
Anna and Tom are on a walk in England's countryside discussing people. Anna says so many people are miserable over things that don't matter a button-
"that's what's wrong with nine-tenths of people you meet," asserted Tom with the down-rightness of youth. "As far as I can see they don't interest themselves in making things or looking at plants or trees or lovely buildings...what beats me is the neglect of simple pleasures and the complete loss of-well-wonder. Why, I get a thrill every time I plant something that looks like a dead flea and comes up a great, glorious pulsing flower! Who wouldn't?"
"You've got the knack of happy living", commented Anna. "I think you must be like my mother who says you aren't just given happiness. She says you have to pick it up here and there all day through. And she does too. She smells a rose, or marvels at a bird hanging upside down on a spray, she makes a perfect dinner. She really savors life, you know, and from it builds up a stock of happiness...she reads a lot of poetry"
Don't you just love it when you read a book that makes you feel so good you could eat it! That's what Fresh from the Country (copyright 1960 by 'Miss Read') is for me right now. The inspiration for this poem came from a page in this book...
Anna and Tom are on a walk in England's countryside discussing people. Anna says so many people are miserable over things that don't matter a button-
"that's what's wrong with nine-tenths of people you meet," asserted Tom with the down-rightness of youth. "As far as I can see they don't interest themselves in making things or looking at plants or trees or lovely buildings...what beats me is the neglect of simple pleasures and the complete loss of-well-wonder. Why, I get a thrill every time I plant something that looks like a dead flea and comes up a great, glorious pulsing flower! Who wouldn't?"
"You've got the knack of happy living", commented Anna. "I think you must be like my mother who says you aren't just given happiness. She says you have to pick it up here and there all day through. And she does too. She smells a rose, or marvels at a bird hanging upside down on a spray, she makes a perfect dinner. She really savors life, you know, and from it builds up a stock of happiness...she reads a lot of poetry"
Have a Happy Sunday. We are having an out-door service at a campground for our annual church picnic!
