Autumn...

Autumn is in the garden

In every nook and rill

And autumn is in the brooding cloud

Above the ragged hill

Autumn is in the valley, dear

River of ruddy leaf

Whispers beneath the wanderer

In rustling rainbow sheaf

Autumn is in the brook, child

Autumn is in the field

And autumn is the orchard where

We garner summer’s yield

Autumn is in your eyes, love

Autumn is in your kiss

And autumn is in the aching teardrop

As we reminisce

© Janet Martin

Of Veils and Tides...

 Morning dawned, an orange crease in black...it seems the wall of cloud is reluctant to dissipate...

The veil that drew across the fell

Where past and tomorrow ally

Recedes; as from the mystic swell

Of time a new day fills the sky

The awesome import of its grace

Where expectation spars with dreams

Anoints our weariness; we trace

The skyline where a new day gleams

This gifted chance to live and love

Compels us to return with zest

To labor in the treasure trove

Of heaven’s merciful bequest

…for soon the veil, if Time abides

Will snuff the hours that implore

But now in faith we forge its tides

To God the glory evermore

© Janet Martin

It is the LORD who created the stars, the Pleiades and Orion. He turns darkness into morning and day into night. He draws up water from the oceans and pours it down as rain on the land. The LORD is his name! Amos 5:8

Stilly the Flow'r is Dying...

Stilly, the flow’r is dying

Spring’s feathery first-fruit

Under bare branch are lying

Returning to its root

Stilly the hours are garnered

To Storehouses of Time

Its rivers running rampant

Abhorrent with sublime

Stilly, autumn is waning

The brook cradles its grief

The breeze, a somber maiden

Severing limb from leaf

Surely, hearts are a garden

For as life’s seasons pass

Stilly its petals gather

Where memories amass

© Janet Martin

My day did not turn out as I thought it would. Due to an unexpected visit to the Dr. with Matt (nothing serious) and then car trouble on the way home (our mechanic is a few doors down from us:-) I did not make it to my friend's mom's funeral. Instead Matt and I began trimming away the tired blooms in front of the house.

'Tis Morning Now...

‘Tis morning now and where the mist

Of autumn’s midnight filled the sky

A new day dawns all heaven-kissed

With hope and grace for you and I

…and who can know what will befall

Before its velvet veil descends

And dusk extols its madrigal

As yet another chapter ends

They come to pass, each moment-chant

The pulse that draws us nearer where

No longer evening shadows slant

Upon earth’s swift, four-season stair

Tis morning now; a day of grace

Expands to light earth’s little shore

The fulcrum of Time’s brief embrace

Our ticket to forevermore

‘Tis morning now; and who can dare

To squander it, for who can tell

Which step will lead from here to There?

So take this day and live it well

© Janet Martin

My friend’s mother will be laid to rest today…after the service we will return to the calling of Time, but only for a little while.

Season-song

Autumn’s aria sweeps a stage

Of milkweed pod and purple sage

Early the lamp-light circle spills

As twilight veils the ruddy hills

Each house along the boulevard

At dusk, seems like an old postcard

Until I almost smell the sigh  

Of wood smoke climbing to the sky

Where autumn like an umber bell

Tolls to the dark, farewell, farewell

The dance of youth and innocence

Must soon bear its deliverance

For moments, soundless as the leaf

That falls, will soon unveil their grief

And we of more and lesser days

Wander at autumn dusk, the ways

Where thought alone can see our feet

Trample the path of bittersweet

And past sweeps like last summer’s wave

Across Time’s moment-metered grave

The song of autumn leaps, then weeps

Where lazy summer laughter sleeps

We spread our fingers but the breeze

Fills them with murmured memories

Of musky plum and sun-kissed peach

And bare-feet footprints on a beach

As sea-song sweeps its empty shore

And weeps for Time’s for-nevermore

The autumn darkness strums a tune

Of winter coming far too soon…

© Janet Martin

He and I

He stares to the distance

Dreams wrestle inside

Where I bear resistance

To time’s bully tide

He sees the languor

Of time’s sluggish stream

I sense the hunger

Of its swift requiem

He urges hours

To rush along fast

I cling to this moment

And wish it could last…

© Janet Martin

Yesterday Matt and I cleaned out the garden. I sensed a big difference in perspective, he always wondering what’s next, how long will this last, what’s for supper…me, completely content in the moment and wishing the day would slow down…

Of Fragments and Fleet Fingers (an oldie re-vamped)

The burnished bloom is weeping

And our pulses feel its grief

Beneath the stealthy fingers

Of a silent, subtle thief

As spring turns into summer

And then summer turns to fall

Life adds another chapter

To its vapor madrigal

Soon summer’s rose is ravaged

By the pilferage of time

Its bud of youth unfolded

In the lilt of living’s rhyme

The flower fields its fragments

Back to earth from whence it came

We cling to fading echoes

And the whispers of a Name

Yes, the vibrant bloom is drooping

Man cannot dissuade the course

Or design of nature’s order

Nor the Hand beneath its force

For to everything, a season

And a time for every plan

Providence employs its reason

…we behold His love for man

© Janet Martin

Another year of blooms is past…

Eccles. 3:1-8

Adjustments...

Isn’t it something

And isn’t it strange

How we learn to cope

And adapt to change?

Change of the weather

Of seasons and such

This is the constant

Of all that we touch

Beautiful life-song

Slips through our grasp

Tuning the echo

Of mem’ries we clasp

Isn’t it something,

The way we must learn

To love, laugh and labor

‘neath Time’s ‘no return’?

God, help us relinquish

Each gift You bestow

To touch, taste and treasure

And gently let go

© Janet Martin

I made too much coffee this morning, forgetting that Emily is not here to drink it.

Last night I paused for a split second, thinking I should keep something on for her supper, when she gets home from work…

Often, if Emily saw a basket of laundry that needed folding she would do it and put it away. Last night at 10:00, that basket looked at me.

Adjustments; they take time.