Of Back-drops and December

Against the backdrop of deep-autumn gray

The night meanders in across the sea

Swindling moments from December’s day

Obliterating it to history

And all that we have done is sealed therein

We cannot rearrange one half-wink jot

Gone is the cup of sun-spun hours wherein

We spill the aftermath of our thought

The wee allotment of coveted time

Is smaller in December’s out-stretched hand

For soon the sun has metered its swift climb

From east to west as twilight drapes the land

While shadows stretch in stark blue honesty

Across the stricken landscapes to the sea

The patient shoulder of sweet mother earth

Responds in still submission to night’s quest

She bears each season’s misery and mirth

Within her bosom rescued dreamers rest

She is the canvas of our toil and spoil

Across her brow the moody moments sweep

But never one its exploit can recoil

Or be unspent as to her claim they seep

And we, unwary follow in their tread

Leaving nothing but memory in their wake

For when at last the climax of their lead

Is in the grave, there’s nothing we can take

Naked into her lap we briefly came

Our one lone echoed offering is our name

Intangible; the veil of middle night

Conceals life’s staid familiarities

I hold you now, so far beyond my sight

And yet curved to me in familiar ease

The distance of too many hours flaunts

We should be beggars of time’s hurried glance

Its proof in life’s mirrored reflection taunts

An equalizing grip; this forward dance

We are not too old yet; we dream once more

Without the reckless candor of our youth

But, ever mindful of the fading shore

Our dreams are wiser now, sculpted by truth

Against the back-drop of deep-autumn’s crown

The laughter of the stars comes spilling down

© Janet Martin

(no laughter of the stars here tonight, only the music of the mist)

 

Now is the Season of Love

Now is the season of love

Where true appetites are exposed

As dollars become proof

Of who or what we love the most

                    

Words offer a sleek facade

While action plays its part

The wise man seeks, knowing that God

Beholds our very heart

Will we be a wise man too

Seeking Christ the King

Bearing humble gifts of love

As we come to worship Him?

Now is the season of love

Oh, what will our love-offering be?

Will it be more than presents

Beneath the Christmas tree?

...and will this season of love
Come simply to pass
Like flakes of melting snow
Or jaded blooms upon the grass

© Janet Martin

Homemaker's Hope

It is just an empty box

This shell of mortar, bricks, wood; stone

But it is what we put inside

That turns a house into a home

Lord, teach us how to fill our homes
Only with things that You approve

A haven from life’s troubled storms

Of joy and peace; of hope and love

And may the house that we call home

Dear Lord, by You be richly blessed

A place where each of us may come

And know that we are loved the best

© Janet Martin

Of Senses

 

As day breaks across the land

And night fades to the sky

I sense above, a Higher Hand

Moving the dark awry

And in the purple hush

Of fragile solitude

I sense beneath His tender brush

My waning strength renewed

Then, when the sky is full

Of morning’s virgin gleam

I sense within love’s patient pull

The will to dance and dream

 © Janet Martin

Of Silver Linings

If never a care touched the way we trod

And never a tear we cried

Then how would we ever desire You, God

Or trust in the strength You provide

If ever the want of this world is our goal

For the little that it can boast

I fear then we may have lost sight of the Whole

And what really matters the most

Through life’s deepest sorrow His Power is revealed

Unseen in life’s fair-fortune skies

His most wondrous wonders are tenderly concealed

In a trial and trouble disguise

Though we may not see Him in the heart of the test

Life is a mysterious track

How often we see that His way was the best

From the view-point of looking back

 

 © Janet Martin

The highest looking-back point is Heaven...and then it won't matter anymore because God will be so much more than this world can ever begin to imagine. 

I have a sister-in-law who suffers incredibly, yet she shines in submission beneath His will. 

For Karen, once again in need of our prayers.

"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways," declares the LORD.

Isa.55:8

Affordable Gift for Any Season

None of us are quite so poor

That we cannot bestow

A word of kind encouragement

As we come or as we go

None of us are quite so rich

As to be unaffected

By words of kind encouragement

Far too often neglected

© Janet Martin

She Would Play Too...If Only

 image source: iowagirleats.com

She watches from her perch

Inside the window

Dark

Smiling at the children

Playing

In the park

It looks like fun

Snow angels; want aches
In her throat

She would play too, if only

She would have
A coat

© Janet Martin

Don't store those coats you no longer need. Donate them to your local coat-drives and family services! they need them, (any size). Drives are on now and nobody likes to be cold.

When Dusk Falls

When dusk fell over Bethlehem that night

When the bustle on the streets grew still

Did anyone other than the shepherd’s sight

The angels singing of peace and goodwill?

The shepherds saw and they believed

With haste they came to Him

Knowing this was no ordinary child

Born in Bethlehem

…Dusk falls at night across our day

The bustle on the street grows still

And those who believe haste to Him to pray

In the Spirit of peace and goodwill

For this is no ordinary Man

Offering into our embrace

A gift that He, the Lord has made

A brand new day of grace

When dusk falls over the earth tonight

And the bustle on the street grows still

As the gift He has given folds out of sight

Will it echo with peace and goodwill?

© Janet Martin