Winter Dessert-Buffet

Somewhere in the sky-kitchen the sugar spilled!

 As much as I love a sere canvas called Sheer Silence...like Sunday

I love the white fluff winter is known for;-) like Monday

 (the below photos from the archives because I was sick a-bed Monday 

and totally astonished at the transformation that took place meanwhile...)

There is just something that 'feels right' when winter is white!

Earth is a tea-tray of white, sparkling truffles

Who in the world could dream up such delight

Scattered at random on linen-clothed tables

Drawing the eye to each sumptuous bite

Earth is a strudel dipped in fine white sugar

Teasing the taste-buds of sight with its sheen

Making us leap for joy, just because winter

Covers the world in furls fit for a queen

Earth is a white-dusted cruller , a cream-puff

Earth is a Portuguese Pillow, oh my

Hold out your tongue, catch a crumb of its white stuff

Then let it melt in a want-for-naught sigh

Earth is a dollop of whip cream on pudding

It is a marshmallow-garnished melee

Come, grab a no-guilt thirds-please slice of Something

Don't just strut by with a gruff 'no-siree'

Earth is a sweet treat with white frosted drizzle

Some stiff-necked diners cringe and shudder ‘nay’

Some of us linger for just one more nibble

Knowing what warm winds do to its buffet

© Janet Martin

Savoring The Ordinary!

Being sick always makes me crave regular or not-so-regular day-to-day Duties Beauties

...like manure-scooping(yup!) on Saturday afternoon
after hubby came back from a particularly draining trip
 and even though he worked circles around me (there's a knack to forking!:)
he said the company was as much appreciated as the 'help'☺

That was Saturday before Sunday-evening flu hit!

Lying in bed listening to life at a distance
rouses a craving for the delicious flavor of 'simple' or 'normal'

Give me a mat full of shoes to trip over

Grant me the honor to take out the trash

Laundry is life’s five-star favor of labor

Give me a floor to scrub, dishes to wash

I love the crest of new day all a-quiver

With raindrop rivers or snow-sequined fists

After a bubble of trouble I savor

The heaven-flavor of plain to-do lists

Show me the long way home; I’m in no hurry

Find me a field full of furrowed furlough

Let me look longer at trees once a-flurry

Still full of glory yet stripped of leaf-show

Music is more than the striking of harp-strings

You should hear heart-strings, after laughter’s pause

My, but a moment takes on sacred meaning

After whatever yesterday’s woe was

Give me a bowl full of dinner-in-waiting

Morning so crisp you could bite it in two

Give me the goodness of mercy creating

Humble thanksgiving… after the flu

© Janet Martin

 "Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning."-Psalm 30:5

My thoughts and prayers are with those still waiting for 'the morning' of joy.

I have a cousin (Wayne Martin) who suffers greatly because of MS 

He is a  husband and father...will you pray for him/them?

For hope/healing however God wills...

I just received a prayer request this evening for a young mom moved to hospice tonight!

 Will you pray too that God would be real to them in their hour of great need?

Up the road a family is adapting to the normal of one less among them....

their 'joy in the morning' feels far away.

...and we all have our own list of names we could add!

Let's never take for granted, present-joy!

Another Day at Hand

 Finally in the up-right position after a hum-dinger of a flu or something!

I tried to 'feel better' this morning, attempting a slow-bustle for 2 hours from 6:00 'til 8:00;
 seeing everyone out the door with their 'travel-bags' for the day or week depending on the person:)

...then I thought maybe if I write my body will forget its sick, so I did (a little) until it was time to pick up my daughter after her exam at 10:00.
Came home to crash on the couch sleeping off and on for the better part of the day!

I am not a patient patient...so happy to be feeling like I might be on the upswing!

The Weaver of Time’s lariat flings gold lakes across the land

His whisper weaves the chariot of another day at hand

As Mercy metes the Stead whereby we traverse morn-to-night

Partakers of The Grace that rattles faith’s cages with sight

Life’s journeyed miles, hinged to a fringe of fathoms mystical  

Repeats its clock-style circuit, with ne’er two identical

And like wild horses set to race across earth's waking strand

Dawn draws ajar the flood-gates of another day at hand

Its gifted breath before the death of all we touch and taste

Drives us forward; futile to stare at former fancies chased

But on this grin-and-bear-it-win-lose-share-it stricken sand

The rider and the chariot greet another day at hand

Each hour, like a lariat soft-lobbed toward its quest

Cannot lasso the chariot that wheels from east to west

It riles Time’s child a little then discharges its demand

Until it is refurbished with another day at hand

© Janet Martin

Below is version #1 written before the 'tweak'...
sometimes after the tweak I'm no longer sure which version is worse better.

The Weaver of Time’s throughway flings gold quilts across the land

His whisper wakes the wonder of another day at hand

As Mercy metes the means whereby we traverse morn-noon-night

And partake of the grace that rattles faith’s cages with sight

Life’s journeyed miles hinged to a fringe of fathoms mystical 

Repeats its clock-style circuit, with ne’er two identical

Of ‘now we lay us down to sleep’ and now we ‘rise and shine’

To join the jostling on a street of ‘how are you’, ‘I’m fine’

This gifted breath before the death of all we touch and taste

Drives us forward; futile to stare at former fancies chased

But in this grin-and-bear-it-win-lose-share-it, still at hand

The Weaver of its throughway flings gold streets across the land

Each hour, like a lariat soft-lobbed toward its quest

Cannot lasso the chariot that wheels from east to west

It riles Time’s child a little then discharges its demand

‘Til Whispers wake the wonder of another day at hand

© Janet Martin