The very shape of you is like a miracle to me
A cup to hold the morning dew or Jack Frost filigree
A startling revelation etched against November gray
Where you relinquish remnants of what buds beget in May
A harp in summer’s hand, a parasol for lilting lark
A wonderland of flowers held in palms of twig and bark
A grandstand filled with whispers while the whole world lies
asleep
The wing that wakes the wooded citadel so dark and deep
You come in sundry shape and size; even a child is drawn
Into your autumn-paradise of leaf-embellished lawn
We never get fully enough of little you, alas
Like all of life the air is rife with what must come… to
pass
© Janet Martin
Last night was one of those nights when I began to question
whether I am really doing what God wants me to do; write poetry. It takes time, head-energy,
time, prayer, time and yet something/Someone in me compels me to write, write,
write...poetry!
But last night some Thing weighed on me…hard, like only
negativity, discouragement and doubt can do and I began to pray 'Lord, is this really what You
have called me to do or am I missing what You want ‘cause I’m writing...poetry? Oh, God,
I really need to know. Can You send me a sign, a clear sign of what You want me
to do? I will not write until I know from You what Your answer is. Amen.'
…then, from the nightstand I picked up a book I purchased last week at
a local thrift-store entitled Lines to Live By. I flipped through it wondering where to
begin to read this compilation of poetry and prose.
I know, I thought, why not start on the very first page; the
Preface…I began reading then began to weep; it was like God was right there in
the room talking to me…reassuring me that it's okay to write yes, even about a little leaf...
Click on images below to enlarge to read...
Preface written by Clinton T. Howell
