...To Come Home to

When night curls close to every window

Filling the firmament with deep-deepest blue

When it washes over daylight, a sea, quiet

I’m glad I have you to come home to

The dark ink of twilight writes ‘good-night’ on pages

We scribbled with delight and defeat

Its waves lap soft through tree-lines and soul-spaces

Jarring reality, bittersweet

Thought turns to simple and profound desire

Utterly glad for the blessing of you

Who needs more than a humble home-fire

And the touch of loved ones to come home to?

© Janet Martin

Last evening suddenly something came up and I needed to go out for a while. On returning home as I saw a family member through the window my heart lurched with gladness for someone to come home to, and sadness for those alone with nowhere to call home...

December...again

The bud that broke and thrilled the limb

That spilled in floral diadem

Has wept its petals to the breeze

And long forgotten centuries

The marsh that throbbed with giddy trill

Of spring-peepers, is stiff and still

The garden, once a paradise

Of bloom; a tomb of tattered sighs

How swift spring-summer-autumn drift

To epitaphs scrawled on a gift

Of moment-gold we cannot hold

For Time is insistent and bold

…and strips the bud that broke and thrilled

The limb where spring and summer spilled

To winds of phantom, freight-like train

That brings December once again

It rumbles from wide open skies

And showers silver sparkle-sighs

To eventide once dull and brown

December is November’s crown

© Janet Martin

I was inspired by the scraggly limbs outside the window...gone the sleepy, leafy sigh of summer-autumn lullaby

 December's crown is a little brown right now...but we're not complaining. November was much whiter than we needed it to be;-)

As He Loved Us

The hollow of utter despair

Is quite unlike its counterpart

Love sweetens even sorrow’s air

It stills the hunger of the heart

Love is not bound by law or creed

But unfetters where greed will bind

Love reaches; bent on tending need

Where the eyesight of Self is blind

The stuff of things is not enough

It bleeds Longing; Want cups the sky

It is impossible to love

And yet seek Self to satisfy

God sent His Son to teach us how

To love in truth; He gave Jesus

A Sacrifice and this is how

We ought to love as He loved us

© Janet Martin

Oh God, when You weigh me in that Grand Balance up above

I have but this one simple plea; that I have learned to love

They only asked us to remember the poor-- the very thing I also was eager to do. Gal.2:10

Oh God, make us eager to remember the poor!

Preparing for Christmas (today's re-post)

Poinsettia for the table

Bloom of festivity

Pretty little angel

To grace the Christmas tree

Lights and pretty candles

Lend their gentle glow

In tiny golden circles

Like choirs on the snow

Cookies, cakes and puddings

In volumes quite obscene

Large and tiny presents

Wrapped in red and green

Songs extol the season

Malls, the latest rave

Excuses become reason

As dollars become brave

Stress finds brand new victims

Cheer loses its mirth

All in preparation

To celebrate Christ’s birth

Shopping lists extended

Beyond budget’s creed

Holly, jolly merchants

Disguise greed as need

Christmas Eve descending

We brave the cold perhaps

To find within a chapel

A pew, where we collapse

My house sure looks amazing

The food, a work of art

Wouldn’t it be something

If this had been my heart?

© Janet Martin

Holy Undertaking of Hope's High Call

Holy, holy, holy

The Hand that tunes the air

And stokes the night with morning light

Stirs humble hearts to prayer

Holy, holy, holy

The love that leads our way

Is changeless in Time’s ever-change

And stirs our hearts to pray

Holy, holy, holy

The Voice that shakes earth’s slope

Whispers within our heart of hearts

Assurances of hope

Holy, holy, holy

Is time’s highway of air

Where breath-by-breath we approach death

And Life beyond earth’s care

Holy, holy, holy

Our mercy-cradled dust

Swells with the faithfulness of He

Who stirs our hearts to trust

Holy, holy, holy
The grace by which we trod
Does not give us what we deserve
But leads us Home...to God

© Janet Martin

 All within me, Praise His Holy Name!
…He will not always strive with us, Nor will He keep His anger forever. He has not dealt with us according to our sins, Nor rewarded us according to our iniquities. For as high as the heavens are above the earth, So great is His loving-kindness toward those who fear Him.…Ps. 103:9-11

This is a portion of scripture that Jim Bauman (mentioned here last week) shared on Thanksgiving Day. He went Home to his Lord on Saturday night. We'll miss him and grieve with joy.