Mr. Twilight

For as long as I can remember

He climbs the beaming hill

And fills his pockets with the gold

That daylight hours spill

It seems I almost hear him

Strumming limbs and such

Humming as the shadows fall

Blue beneath his touch

I should like to join him

To stroll along the ridge

Where suddenly the afternoon

Is like a walking bridge

The landscape like a river

Where all its swarthy ships

Are harbored on earth’s dewy seas

Beneath his fingertips

He does not see me watching

I guess he never will

He always faces to the east

I live on the south hill

But often as he passes

I wipe a winsome tear

And blow a kiss for what yet is

But soon will disappear

© Janet Martin

Beneath the Rush of Dawn Unstoppered

We, at the faultless mercy

Of He who ordains air

With colors of new morning

Have a high call to bear

Whether of prince or pauper

Young, old or in between

The rush of dawn un-stoppered

Pours out virgin Unseen

Then, as we drain its golden

deluge of touch-taste test

We each are called, beholden

To give to God our best

© Janet Martin

Jim called from near Sudbury and we were comparing sunrises. They both sounded pretty good and not at all alike!!!

our call...

 And he opened his mouth and taught them, saying:

³ “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
⁴ “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.
⁵ “Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.
⁶ “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.
⁷ “Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy.
⁸ “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.
⁹ “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons^[a] of God.
¹⁰ “Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
¹¹ “Blessed are you when others revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. ¹² Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for so they persecuted the prophets who were before you. Matt.5:2-12

Where Flowers Live Forever...

The flower flaunts its pretty plume

Then soon its petals wilt

Rendering back to earth the bloom

Of season-ordered lilt

The gardener walks more slowly when

The flower blooms because

She knows that soon its diadem

Will be the thing that was

And though Time commandeers the bud

…the bloom and its demise

It cannot order from our thought

The garden plot that lies…

Where flowers live forevermore

And blossoms spill their art

For memories bloom on and on

In gardens of the heart

© Janet Martin

Methinks I Sense a Kinship

Methinks I sense a kinship in your gray reluctant eyes

The colors of relinquishment are evident; your sighs

Betray you, ever waning in the rain that weeps non-stop

The flask from whence fair summer poured has drained its final drop

The gold that warmed our up-turned faces, kissed our hungry skin

Is cold, a keener nuance traces our meek chagrin

While still we strain to drain from picture-frames of nature spent

A sweeter sort of beauty in its muted filament

One by one each tree surrenders to the touch of what must be

Leaf by leaf each tear is tendered to Time’s tick-tock majesty

And methinks I sense a kinship in your lingering caress

Where letting go is simply part of love and life, I guess

© Janet Martin

Slumber-song

Autumn Lies Still…

Long the lazy laughter of its wooded hill and steep

Would lull the little boy or girl or mother fast asleep

But now the dark is empty of its softly sweeping sigh

The wide-flung window shuttered where Time open, shuts her eye

For night still bears its morning and the morning, afternoon

The tree that bore the hungry bud will sing new anthems soon

Do not despair although the air is charged with darker hours

The aftermath of what awaits will lead us back to flowers

Autumn lies still…

The gleaming rill is dappled with leaf-notes; its bank soft-lined

With amber-feathered echoes of what summer left behind

A marathon of memories and moments charge the air

Composing a strange montage of both triumph and despair

…where once we were the children splashing wind-kissed and footloose

Through leaves without much thought to hours or Time’s tightening noose

But oh, deeper appreciation of each season’s good and ill

Invites us to live, laugh and love where now autumn lies still

© Janet Martin