For Happiness Hunters

The above photo is yesterday's sky...today wears somber gray

I had a disquiet in my contentment-scale this morning;
September seemed such a busy blur of...
ah, yes.
Blessing.

Time's seasoned quest for happiness

Methinks is found in thankfulness

There is no Stuff that love can find

To satisfy the heart and mind

But as we count our mercies, oh

Our happiness is sure to grow

Sometimes it seems thought sets a snare

And we forget how blessed we are

The cry of what we think we lack

Can throw our happiness off track

But, if we count our blessings here

Our wants begin to disappear

Life’s lot of joy and sorrowing

Is fraught with beg and borrowing

‘Though much is taken much abides’

And we, not circumstance decides

The measure of a happiness

That only thankful hearts possess

Earth’s war of hurt is never won

Until our spar with dirt is done

But life is kinder if we believe

‘It is more blessed to give than receive’

 Thus, in giving thanks we will find

Happiness for heart and soul and mind

© Janet Martin

The measure whereby we give

Is the measure whereby we live~

Proof of a Life Well-loved

Lord, when my life with its joy and its strife

Is chiselled down to bare size

All that I ask for the fruit of its task

Is a crop of hard good-byes

© Janet Martin

My mother-to-mother heart is full of hugs and prayers for my sis who was dreading this morning's good-byes to a daughter who is on her way to Thailand for 6 mos.

Where Nothing New Exists...

In unexpected places nature graces us with awe

Each day is like a window-seat where what we thought we saw

Is unlike anything we’ve seen; as bud and berm untwists

And we are taken by surprise where nothing new exists

Look up; look down, then all around, there is no second place

In nature’s gallery each entry is a masterpiece

Where halls of hill and field exhibit Wonder free of charge

And we are to be pitied most if we miss God at large

This is the stomping ground where Ancient Covenant abides

As long as earth remains heaven unchains its season-tides

And we, like pioneers discover for ourselves, amour

Because no one has worn the skin that we are in before

Hello, ye yellow Sun-flower, farewell, spring-summer-fall

Look down; look up, time’s testament is like a madrigal

Its penmanship of trembling lip and Hunger’s tug-of-heart

Draws from an age-old inkwell, Original works of art

© Janet Martin

 That which has been is what will be,
That which is done is what will be done,
And there is nothing new under the sun.

Eccles.1:9

Recognizing Right Now For What It Is...

 Once upon a time there was a little boy who declared that 'tree apples are way more 'liscious than store apples'...

 Sitting beneath fruit-studded limbs seemed to give him an idea...

How do I reach them, he asks...

uh-oh, how do I pick them? he wonders, hanging on for dear life...

...and they all munched happily ever after;-)

Sometimes those moments of no-second-thought

Return in moments of rather-have-not

Then we remember the splendor of days

We don’t remember for their common ways

Sometimes, when life is a kick in the lip

We look with new eyes at what we let slip

Then, often we are quite dumbly surprised

At how life’s best days are humbly disguised

Sometimes our wish and want puts us to shame

For while we wish we miss what Past will claim

Sometimes the treasure of ‘best memories’

Is as simple as pleasure of child, apples and trees

Sometimes (how about right now) we should look

At what we see like an almost-mem’ry-book

Then I am sure we would gentle our stare

And handle 'right-now' with tenderest care

© Janet Martin

Who Doesn't Love Fall?!

Who doesn't love fall colors? asks Linda, here.

It suddenly primed my heartstrings with what waits in October, so I'm just passing it on;-)

 We still have three days of September 2016 left to make memorable its existence.
Let's do it with purpose!

Who can resist the undoing of earth?

Nature unravels its offspring of birth

Gardens grow weary yet heave-ho becomes

A rainbow-halo; squash, pumpkins and mums

Who is immune to the blue-bluster breeze?

Teasing and tugging red whispers from trees

Sun-dappled apple-sweet orchards are bliss

We are all lovers when love is like this

Who can say no to fall’s sumptuous fare?

Full-color frontiers and frost-flavored air

Harvest-hulled hillsides, paint palettes so vast

That no earth-artist is fit for the task

Who can disdain what no hand can prevent?

After the laughter of summer is spent

After the flower is stripped of its bell

Color climaxes in woodland and dell

Who in this season of farewell will sing?

Death shrouds the globe in robes fit for a king

Landscapes surrender while splendor runs rife

Dusk deepens early, the wind is a scythe

© Janet Martin