Day-rise

New day rises, its surprises

Still fanciful and intact

Where life’s love and longing draws us

To an untarnished tarmac

For in spite of surly let-downs

And sorrows not yet subdued

Dawn dismantles from Time’s Unknown

Hope and committal renewed

Mercy’s gateway grafted grandly

On a foothold wrought of air

Draws us, burden-bent and scraggly

Forward on our here to There

For no boast or bold adorning

Can compare in its display

To the debut of a morning

As God grants another day

Come, let us reason together

Dare we with ill-tempered trust

Base elation on the weather

Or in fragile frames of dust?

Ah, the doorway to faith’s freeway

Swings on hinges heaven-shod

Where day rises; its surprises

Spilling from the will of God

 Janet Martin

 What, then, shall we say in response to these things? 

If God is for us, who can be against us?

Romans 8:31

After the Darling Day...

After the darling day has borne its due

To add another patch to Time’s worn coat

Its gossamer embossed against a hue

Of sentimental blue where echoes gloat

We gaze across a haze of yesterdays

Exhuming graves beneath a brush of thought

Time softens imperfections with love’s glaze

As we forgive distresses best forgot

Then how beloved that landscape reappears

In sudden images of yesteryears

The innocence of childhood, swift and sweet

Spawns lithesome laughter to delight our day

Too soon the deeper shades of life compete

To steal the carefree lad or lass away

Yet, we would not rob them of living’s joy

To dream and reach, to reach and dream want-wild

For oh, there’s nothing like a girl or boy

To draw our thought to when we were a child

It stirs within the soul soft, sudden tears

With panoramic scenes of yesteryears

Shoulder to shoulder ever older we

Begin to empathize with patriarchs

Exclaiming at a season’s subtlety

Tasting the essence of age-old remarks

While deep cornflower blue closes the sky

And starlight way up high tugs at our throat

For we know it is foolhardy to try

To unravel time’s tried and tattered coat

…the last tree on the skyline disappears

Stitching another patch to yesteryears

© Janet Martin

Babysitting three busy boys this summer keeps me on the run and laughing...

Boy: Janet, why is a tractor magic?

Janet, after thinking a few moments; Why?

Boy; Because it can drive down a road and turn into a field!

My mother entertained her granddaughters today. When I went to pick up Victoria it reminded me of my 'Grandma-visits'! Esp. when Mom/Grandma passed out jellybeans;) 

My Grandmother Martin kept a covered candy-bowl on her buffet. I loved to peek into it when she wasn't watching, knowing that somewhere along the day we would be invited to sample its goodies!

Oh, sweet yesteryears...

Time's Painted Veil

Now lay thee down, oh faded crown

Of hill and hollow beaming

Where shadow fills the shallow rills

Of dawn to dusk soft gleaming

The daffodil that roused a thrill

Leading a troupe of flowers

Returns to dust as all life must

‘Neath the command of hours

This home-sweet-home beneath a dome

Of universal thunder

Bears bloom-belled grass and boys that pass

To manhood as we wonder

And oft exclaim how quickly came

That foreign Far we pondered

As fain we yearn for the return

Of Fortunes that we squandered

The vanity of what we see

Entertains as it severs

This delicate mortality

To consummate Forever

Ah, flesh and blood, be not our god

Nor vainglory our passion

Time’s painted veil is framed to fail

Its cap-sheaf a sad fortune

Now lay thee down on fell wind-blown

Futile to beg and barter

Or think to change or rearrange

Time’s elemental charter

This sprinkling of flowers we love

Falls fondly through our fingers

Earth’s cradle- grave consumes its wave

Only the soul yet lingers

© Janet Martin

The signs are everywhere...Time is a painted veil.

Of What Will Never Be Again...

It's been a week of coming and going until today! Emily just called and I tell her I keep thinking back to last year at this time; it's the late summer smells and this cooler- MUCH-cooler-than-it-should-be-in-Augtober day making me nostalgic...

This moody mosaic of having and holding

Of loving and letting go

Of green turning gold in time’s fugitive hold

Of summer -set’s blue-bayou glow

…this hunger for something that turns into nothing

But thought’s echo-framed memory

Where triumph and failure, close-knitted forever

Jars us where nobody can see

This tumbled sky sadness and blessed-am-I gladness

Sparring in hand-head-heart dissent

Fills fingers with fervor and urgent endeavor

To shape what soon slips from Time’s tent

..and I must move slowly for I sense something holy

Filling smile and soul with sweet pain

Desire and duty weave life’s busy beauty

Of what will never be again

© Janet Martin

Mother to Mother

‘You know how it is’ she said

And I do

That feeling of lonely

November blue

Of heart-letting-go

Of un-clenching fists

Knowing Time takes

Even as it gives

And all we can do

Is savor the kiss

Of every moment

…you know how it is

...how, what we can't hold

We cover with prayer

Knowing God IS

Everywhere

  © Janet Martin

Back-to-school packing/moving is kicking into high gear. We have one more week before the house is one girl emptier...