Of Clock-laughter

The clock laughs from its perch

And doesn’t seem to care

How fast it eats the morning

While I throw a little prayer

Into the air, because the clock

While we were taking-giving

Took what we thought was time enough

And turned it into living

The clock winks from its perch

Imbibed by faded summers

…a constant farewell flow and lurch

Welcomes naive new-comers

While we, both blessed and burdened

By the ether of its order

Chase feet with prayer because the stair

Of time is getting shorter

The clock grins from its perch

It never snores or falters

Where work and home and school and church

Shape and re-shape our alters

We take and break clock-offerings

They spill in faded flowers

The clock tick-tocks, laughs, winks and grins

And plants the air with hours

© Janet Martin

We got home late last night, resulting in a morning of almost-missed buses. I stood in the door-way flinging prayer to the air, asking God for His care to bless and keep...

Victoria's blissful, leisure enjoyment of honeycomb came to an abrupt end as as Mom noticed the clock..."BUS TIME!!"

Then Who Am I To Think Perhaps...

Then who am I to think perhaps

The grace of God suffers a lapse

When dreams collapse or dark despair

Wafts like a noose upon the air

And who am I to think His love

Will somehow be not quite enough

Or that His promises somehow

Do not apply to here and now

And who am I to doubt His will

Or Strength my own weakness to fill

What He has said, so will He do

God, help me then to trust in you

© Janet Martin

But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. 2 Cor. 12:9

Where Age Takes Time to Gaze...

Beneath the splendor of the sky

A sea of seasons hastens by

Its morning-noon-to-night employs

Time’s forward flight of sorrow-joys

To thresholds fixed twixt 'fore and aft

Where oft we wept and oft we laughed

The sky is safe from mankind’s ways

Of notions bent by vision’s sways

The Keeper of earth's heavens holds

The brush that tints its ether folds

Where man can only look and see

The hinge of vast eternity

The hunger of our younger days

Winnows and age takes time to gaze

More often at the lofty sweep

Vaulted above time’s little leap

Where life and death appose its air

In one half-breath twixt here and There

The chinks between the cloud-bars beam

With midnight stars and morning's gleam

Beneath the splendors of the sky

The seas of centuries pass by

And just as men of ancient days

Were awed, we too but stand and gaze...

© Janet Martin

 Look up at the heavens and see; gaze at the clouds so high above you. Job 35:5

Do you know how the clouds hang poised, those wonders of him who has perfect knowledge? Job 37:16

Who can understand how he spreads out the clouds, how he thunders from his pavilion? Job 36:29

He sits enthroned above the circle of the earth, and its people are like grasshoppers. He stretches out the heavens like a canopy, and spreads them out like a tent to live in.  Isa.40:22

Lift up your eyes and look to the heavens: Who created all these? He who brings out the starry host one by one and calls forth each of them by name. Because of his great power and mighty strength, not one of them is missing.  Isa.40:26

When I consider Your heavens, the work of Your fingers, The moon and the stars, which You have ordained; What is man that You take thought of him, And the son of man that You care for him?

Ps. 8:3-4

Of Fields and Foolishness

One act of foolishness can yield

A life of consequence

Darling, the snow that sweeps the field

And swathes the garden fence

Will soon fall prey to the exchange

Of gold where gray clouds rearrange

The hills that waft above earth’s plains

And the attire of season-strains

The ribbons that unraveled where

Fair summer spilled its bloom

Are dangling in the frosted hair

Of every stricken plume

…and yet beneath, the still seed lies

Asleep until time’s softer sighs

Of zephyr wakes its pulse to spill

The fruit thereof on dale and hill

The seed of foolishness seems small

And insignificant

There is no spring, summer and fall

In gardens where we plant

One of two seeds, foolish or wise

And we do well to realize

The breadth of harvest it can yield

 Of field on field on field…on field

© Janet Martin

Our Christmas Song

(Today, a re-post of hope that never grows old!)

Hail the fruit of Mary’s womb

In joyous celebration

Hail the Victor of death’s tomb

And hope of every nation

For this is Jesus Christ, God’s Son

He gives to us our Christmas song

Hail, the hand that held the nails

So we may be forgiven

Hail, His love that never fails

Sealing our hope in Heaven

Come gather ‘round on bended knee

Hail, Jesus Christ who sets men free

Hail, hail the Seed of mystery

Born to the Virgin Mary

For Christ put on mortality

And suffered even Calva’ry

Lift up your heart and raise your voice

Mankind has reason to rejoice

Hail the King on Heaven’s throne

The Babe whom angels heralded

Hail He who passed through Caesar’s stone

Where roman soldiers guarded

Hail Jesus Christ, God’s precious Son

He gives to all a Christmas song

He gives to all a song of hope

Hark to love’s sacred story

Jesus, ev'ry sinner’s scapegoat

And redemption’s glory

He gives to all a song of joy,

Peace and goodwill forever

Hail Bethlehem’s dear baby boy

Hail Jesus, death's Deliverer

© Janet Martin