December's Wooing Air

The air that sharper falls on barren hill

Still woos, though not as zephyr on the slope

That faces south with flowers in its mouth

December’s air wears a far fairer hope

And turns the looking eye beyond the hills

Like shepherds gazing upward at a star

We, wooed by seraph-song and happy throng

Hurry it seems, to where the children are

Stars sparkle in the flakes of snow that soft

Aloft upon the wooing barren limb

They light the eyes of children, ah the skies

Have lent their angels to extol hope’s hymn

Where earth hungers for childlike faith and joy

Of girl and boy not hampered by fear, grim

But wooed by the amazing Christ-child King

We, with the children too are wooed by Him

Ah, Heaven’s Darling woos the hearts of we

Who, eager for True Hope to light our way

Are seeking like Magi, a King on high

So we may come to worship Him like they

With gifts of gratitude and humble awe

To think that heaven’s best should come to us

And put on flesh to woo us from dark Death

By dying on a Cross as did, Jesus

…and thus, the air that falls this time of year

Though stripped of summer-dappled jubilee

Woos with a Voice that bids the heart rejoice

With hope greater than bud-bloom filigree

…December’s air woos where the children laugh

And delight spills like sunbeams or star-dust

To older hearts where peace its joy imparts

And heaven woos us once again…to trust

© Janet Martin

Come, 'tis the season for celebration! Last night we attended Victoria's School Christmas concert; This always ignites delight; the choir of beaming faces and pure, young voices cannot help but woo us to the manger!

The Waiting-Tree

 They stand tall, dressed in their stark-naked best

Cloth of mist wafts, a silk scarf soft-kissed

And twisted through arms cradling empty nest

Where sky-tears glimmer, gray on out-stretched wrists  

Like longing, they wait; what choice do they have?

Strength of subjection is quietly brave

Futile the tantrum and wasted the tear

Hushed, they garnish the thin edge of the year

There is no fast-forward-rewind on Time’s wheel

Who is so great it can its law appeal?

The tree’s full glory is stripped like a reed

Nature, subject to what God has decreed

…and so they stand tall in their stark-naked best

Waiting for fall to become winter-dressed

There is a startling, sweet simplicity

In the humble subjection of the waiting-tree

© Janet Martin

Of Picture-laden Streams...

Sometimes I think I’d like to save the thought of you where blue and gold

Drip heedlessly twixt me and you on our way to growing old

But thought has a mind of its own refusing oft, to quite adhere

To commands whispered where the tone of moments croon and commandeer

These moments fill the gap that grows where that last yesterday we spent

Is covered ‘neath a hundred snows or more and it seems time is bent

On kissing, pressing other places, faces where once you and I

Were not so old and full of moments poured from pitchers in the sky

Sometimes, in the sudden quiet aftermath of push and shove

I remember; you and I slip from resolve’s cold, olden glove

Long enough to keep the picture that would fade away, I fear

While I saved it where new moments press and push and pioneer

We, for a lifetime of moments cannot relive even one

Seasons have a way reaching over all we’ve said and done

And the rush of tides beneath us keeps us on our toes, it seems

Where thought flounders in the free-fall of new picture-laden streams

© Janet Martin

gotta go. time to tidy today's 'picture-streams';-)

As We Go...

It's not so much the type of trouble

That vexes our treks of sod

But our short-sighted approval

And the lack of trusting God

Peace that passes understanding

Is not for the faint of heart

But for those solely depending

On He who its peace imparts

We would all be better for it

Save ourselves a heap of woe

If our own pride we would forfeit

Fully trusting as we go

Janet~

Of Care and Courage

Care runs ready fingers over laugh-lines of youth

It weighs the spirit with want, need and truth

Life has no easy-street without any trouble

Lest ever we think it; pop goes its bubble

Its care, in spite of our ‘rather-would-not’

Trains us to labor with what we’ve got

We cannot order or arrange morrow’s air

Nor tug the veil from its stalemate of care

Our utter hope, when it’s all said and done

Is not how we cope but Who we lean upon

All we can do with our share of care’s test

Is ask God for courage then trust Him for the rest

© Janet Martin

...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...