Click on image to enlarge...
morning spilled
in gold puddles
before a hungry cloud
ate the sun
(I have a feeling the cloud will spew it back onto the sky eventually)
Soft, soft upon the stirring prow of Now the ‘won’t and will’
Of Unknown, wrapped in pink and blue begins unraveling
Where yester-dusk blushed on the hills and sealed its rendering
Behind closed doors of nevermore, now untried mercies spill
Kissing our weary blind-spots with a whisper of hello
And gifting us with opulence of opportunity
The rush of something special, though our gaping gaze can’t
see
Breaks wide, a mercy-miracle upon this cursed plateau
…and we, armed with the grace of God and prospect’s polished
spade
Are greeted by a host of hope-buds waiting for the touch
Of something special ere they fall prey to Past’s steadfast
clutch
Fresh from the Hand of mercy, memories wait to be made
© Janet Martin
What will we fill our pockets with today?
With or without intention
Memories are being made...
We are hosting our annual super-bowl get-together tomorrow so along with some prep-work,
and mundane awesomeness I hope to add a splash of 'something special'. I don't know yet what it will be so it's time to start digging...
Have a blessed Saturday!
p.s.
same poem with different lines breaks for those who prefer a less lyrical read...
Soft, soft upon the stirring prow
of Now the ‘won’t and will’
Of Unknown, wrapped in pink and blue
begins unraveling,
Where yester-dusk blushed on the hills
and sealed its rendering
behind closed doors of nevermore,
Now untried mercies spill
Kissing our weary blind-spots
with a whisper of hello
and gifting us
with opulence of opportunity
the rush of something special,
though our gaping gaze can’t see,
breaks wide
a mercy-miracle upon this cursed
plateau
…and we, armed with the grace of God
and prospect’s polished spade are greeted
by a host of hope-buds waiting
for the touch of something special
ere they fall prey
to Past’s steadfast clutch,
Fresh from the Hand of mercy,
memories wait to be made
© Janet Martin
