Impressions of Majesty

 And these are but the outer fringe of his works; how faint the whisper we hear of him! 

Who then can understand the thunder of his power?"

Job 26:14

The Sculptor of mist

Where shadows untwist

Intangible menageries

Wakens in the heart

Sweet love for the art

Of simple ‘almost memories’

The Artist of air

That sets morn a-flare

Before its wick wanes on the west

Ushers to touch-taste

Meeker rev’rence and grace

Aware of time’s delicate zest

The Painter of awe

On determined law

Showcases so much come-to-pass

And makes moments feel

Like wisps on a reel

Serrated with feathers and glass

The Maestro of days

Wills ways to amaze

Even the most atheistic host

And makes us aware

That Someone Somewhere

Is bigger than man’s boldest boast

The sole/soul Author of

Life’s greatest gift; love

Allots and allows us to see

A glimpse, just a glimpse

Where earth-and-sky hints

At impressions of Majesty

© Janet Martin

 "The God who made the world and everything in it is the Lord of heaven and earth 

and does not live in temples built by human hands.

Acts 17:24

Then, When This Season Too Has Passed...

 Is there any place you would love to see that isn't too far away?

 I asked Victoria on Saturday as we tried to think of a way to make her 18th birthday memorable.
So, being a bit of a history buff she decided on

the Civic Museum (in the building that used to be a convent) 

and Basilica of Our Lady Immaculate 

 What a structure!!!

and Janus Books (a buy-and-sell bookstore) where we each bought a book 

as a memento of the day...

Then, when this season too has passed

Gathered its best and worst

And pressed it into pictures cast

With tinctures blessed and cursed

The best that we can strive for, dear

Where Time swings soundless gates

Is to embrace right now, right here

Before it dissipates

Those plans we prize with wayward eyes

Though dreams can kindle joy

Ought not to rob us of glad sighs

That Here and Now employ

For what may seem quite commonplace

As far as moments go

Soon whets the salt-star on the face

When tender echoes flow

To games and tricks that thought can play

We ought to be on guard

Today is always eager prey

For morrow’s s mystic bard

And who knows what its beggar brings

To keen a humble prayer

Before the whisper of it clings

To fragments of thin air

…then, when this season too has passed

Like all seasons before

To join the everlasting cast

Of what will be no more

The best that we can hope to keep

Of intangible gold

Is what we make with days that sweep

In moments through our hold

© Janet Martin

 Another thing that made this day memorable was a newly-tried Orange Layer Cake 

A Birthday Poem from Mom to Daughter...

Our 'baby' is eighteen!

Happy Birthday, Victoria!

 Psalm 90:12 
  “Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.”

 Faster-faster, ordered Little Fellow to Aunt Victoria from his 'chariot'

 To Victoria from mom...

This poem is a little gift

To try to let you see

How you give every day a lift

Like a gift back to me

How you make life a lovely quest

And joy a dream come true

How our home feels extra-blessed

Because God gave us you

How you make mother’s love a prayer

And hope, a super-star

And happiness a bit more fair

By being who you are

I wish that poetry unfurled

A mighty rolling sea

…for love feels bigger than the world

Yet fits inside of me

It glimmers in a glad, sad tear

While Time, with tick-and-tock

Soft steals and adds another year

To ‘chip’ and The Old Block

Love, like an over-flowing well

Makes life a work of art

Where Poem simply cannot spell

The bottom of my heart

© Janet Martin

This is the corner of the kitchen where on every birthday-day a mother sits and beseeches God

for words to give the birthday-beloved a teeny glimpse of her heart...

.

Color-wheel of Love

I think we broke the winter weekly sunrise record easily this week!
5 in one week?! wow! Thank-you, Lord. (And help our praise to be more than lavish lip-service!)

The deep dark starts to hint at tints of turquoise fringed with pink

As stars that studded midnight’s arc are softly snuffed, blink-blink

The slumber-silenced orb of earth senses whispers of light

The Troubadour of Time’s rebirth restores image to sight

Thought reaches for more than the trouble man is born to bear

Horizon-lines transfix our gaze with morning’s mercy-flare

For God does not forget the ancient promise that He made

‘As long as earth endures; summer and winter, night and day’

How swift the gift of day erases traces of night’s claim

Heaven declares God’s handiwork on fathoms without frame

As far as eye can see the sky showcases majesty

Beyond the reach of human hands’ erring propensity

God’s footstool beams where beauty streams and crests earth’s eastward banks

The best that we can give is love well-lived in humble thanks

Where, whether rain or shine the earth and its fullness thereof

Is held by the Divine Artist whose color-wheel is love

© Janet Martin