Autumn's Brigadoon

Moments amass; too oft we pass up opportunities

Leading to grass freeways and skies as wide as open seas

Edict of toil and soil foil plans fashioned by wanderlust

We grapple with life while wild apple trees spill, dust to dust

Time after time we climb the lower limbs of good intention

While bloom-bells chime, a pantomime of wealth and intervention

Time’s puddle that we muddle through is but a dash, a splash

A prelude to these wars subdued where good and evil clash

This spurt of dirt and hurt offers a longer, slower road

Where those less hurried trundle-tromp to destiny’s abode

The call to grassland freeways beneath blue, wide-open sky

Is autumn’s invitation; everybody should reply

Sometimes I wonder how much happier this world would be

If every gate would open to a garden and a tree

And shops would close up early because Autumn's matriarch

Spread every meadow like a quilt for picnics in its park

© Janet Martin

Hark to October's Song

Hark, while the busy flower flings its petal to the tree

And every hill of former green dons dazzling filigree

The winnowing of days fills skies with roseate and teal

The target of thought’s dream-some sighs lies somber and surreal

Hark, heaven lends suggestions of what waits beyond this clod

Of four-season investments scribbled on parchments of sod

Where sunlight splays its circle of gold high atop the earth

And mankind lays his winsome ways within its waning girth

Hark, while a seraphim of frond and limb unfurls its song

And all along the boulevard scuttles a scattered throng

Of quarter-notes and amber-threaded tatters from a coat

That flaunted fearless flowers and hours fond and remote

Hark, lest in our hasting we forfeit life’s finest things

For bits of boorish tasting and want’s temperamental strings

Where now the colored flame of dirt laughs like a clapping child

Before the taming wind that howls through bones and wooded wild

© Janet Martin

Sometimes one simply needs to get out there and enjoy it, or fall falls away like a leaf on the wind, untouched.

Pale Pink

OctPoWriMo day 8; Today's Challenge, Write a poem talking about a color and your memories attached to it. Bring us along for the memory's journey.

Your fingers 

kept getting caught

In soft pink shell-stitch

As you introduced

Your new-born mother

To a whole new, soft-pink world

Of love

Your mother,

A stranger to this world

Of pink booties and bassinets

Of little pink fingers and toes

Was about to discover

How this whole new world of love

Was also a whole new world 

Of sorrow

© Janet Martin

Today is a Miracle

Today is a miracle

Look, look up to the sky

See! The cocoon of night unfolds

A newborn butterfly

Today is a miracle

Heaven could not contain

This once- in-a-lifetime event

That will not pass again

Today is a miracle

Even angels approve

This gift from God that skims earth’s sod

This miracle of love

Today is a miracle

Man’s track-record of shame

Is powerless to bar the tress

From whence this wonder came

Today is a miracle

Ah, pray we do not miss

The fervor of its live-laugh-love

Unfurling from God’s kiss

© Janet Martin

To touch without feeling,

To eat without tasting,

To hear without listening,

To breathe without Being 

Is surely the saddest death of all~