Night-fall

The night falls thick and soft as heaven’s feather-down duvet

Decks every hill and croft where dull November tatters lay

The landscape boasts a host of marshmallow-like infantry

Where once upon an afternoon green bushes used to be

…the silent night is silver white; I cannot bear to snore

While under the influence of quadrillion stars or more

Is there a fount in Heaven that spills diamonds just for fun?

Earth is the grand recipient of heaven’s over-run

And we within the thunder of plush plunder feel like kings

Forgetting in its wonder small and unimportant things

Where angel-feathers fall and we feel almost fit to fly

Within this whirling, swirling magi-furling from the sky

The silence of this stilly night echoes of centuries

And almost we can hear the waft of bells upon the breeze

Then, almost I’m persuaded to wait lest perchance Heaven

Is spilling angels singing ‘peace on earth, goodwill to men’

Where just this afternoon hills shivered in thread-bare brown-gray

Before glad tidings wrapped them in a feather-down duvet

© Janet Martin

When I picked Matt up at work around six-o-clock this evening snow was falling in a thick feather-frenzy. At midnight, after Matt's hockey game the night is a hushed, plush pillow on a downy duvet.

We Thank You, Lord (A Thanksgiving Song)

For frost-dusted furrow where harvest is gleaned

For eager-eyed children where summer is weaned

For leaf-swaddled havens of woodland and dell

Soft-kissed into cradles where autumn-song fell

For bins filled with mercy where spilled seed is stored

For these tender blessings we thank You, Lord

For food, friends and family, freedom and faith

For home, health and hope of heaven after death

For happiness not dependent on this world

For sunrise and sunset steadfastly unfurled

For bread on the table and Bread from Your Word

For these gracious blessings we thank You, Lord

For little boy noise and little girl giggles,

For platters of pancakes and spaghetti squiggles

For fire in the fireplace and coffee-table clutter

For cheese, please. Crackers and peanut butter

For promise of springtime as winter’s reward

For these precious blessings we thank You, Lord

We thank You Lord, for your bountiful Hand

For rain-sun compassion to favor the land

For music of earth in four-seasons decreed

For measureless treasure in every seed

For Your faithful Presence to comfort and gird

We bow before You and thank you, Lord

© Janet Martin

 

 Somehow American Thanksgiving is contagious;) I'm especially thankful the farmers were able to harvest a little more crops in the last 2 days.

Poem-threads

The threads of a poem spiral from a loom

As freely to fingers of dish-cloth and broom

As to he who ponders on palettes of silk

The why and the wherefore of breath-to-breath ilk

We never know what colors may unfurl

Welkin of willow, pink laughter of girl

Dapple of sunbeam or purple of mist

Dusk as it tiptoes in, moody-blue kissed

This is not any old day that we hold

This is a once-in-a-lifetime gray-gold

This is a stanza, when it disappears

We cannot alter with ten-thousand tears

Soft through our bearing the poem of life

Tempers the hand with the pen, joy and strife

Render their portions of hold and let go

Humble words tumble like ink-gilded snow

…weaving from threads as they slither and slip

Heavy with honey and gall through our grip

Pictures to keep as Time torments our grasp

Changing and changing the colors we clasp

© Janet Martin

Inhale, Exhale... Gratitude

 PAD challenge day 27:For today’s prompt, write an appreciative poem.

The blanket of the sky was spread

Like midnight velvet overhead

Before silk silver softly swept

Across a lea where houses slept

Then, like brass buttons on its coat

The lights came on as they awoke

The stretch and yawn of human race

Sets foot upon time's fresh-spun grace

As coffee-flavored undertows

And breakfast chatter gently flows

Up to a throne where Mercy pleads

On the behalf of mortal needs

This vapor thread twixt life and death

Extends, for our very breath

Is God-granted; inhale, exhale

We, by a love that will not fail

Set sail upon earth's sea of sod

And humbly whisper, thank-you God

Janet~

Happy Thanksgiving to our American friends!

Oh, Sometimes to Fully Feel you...

Oh, sometimes to fully feel you

I write you down

Trace afternoon for your color

Burgundy, gold, chestnut brown

For often you slip from my fingers

Before our dance is through

So I write you down, my precious

To remember you

I pluck the petal that brushes

The cheek ere it vagrantly slips

Into the silver forever

Of Past’s irretrievable crypts

Or else in the rush of your rain-song

I’ll snatch a tear from your eye

And press it into word pictures

Where dark is stealing the sky

I caught a feather of snowflake

Before it dissolved into naught

Etching your six-point perfection

Into meandering jot

You never scream for attention

Maybe that is why I love you

And feel compelled to frame pieces

Dripping and slipping from view

Eternal transience, ah moment

Moving across my today

Stripping swift years of its valor

While filling a life with your fray

Oh, sometimes to fully feel you

I grasp your ephemeral gown

And as you slide soft through my fingers

I linger and write you down

© Janet Martin

Perfect Fit

Sometimes, if we’re uncertain

As to how we fit God’s plan

Then all that each of us can do

Is this; the best we can

Right where we are and who we are

Is all that will attest

To what we did with what we had

And if we did our best

So if life’s Puzzle frazzles

And perplexes us a bit

If we commit to give our best

Our piece is sure to fit

...so pull that bitty rake

and push that bitty plow

Our legacy depends on what

we do with bitty now

© Janet Martin

 And whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord, and not unto men; Col.3:23