In Spite Of Its Costume

 'It's a very nice day', remarked little Luke yesterday, 

with his back turned to the gray-drippy outdoors and his eyes pre-tasting the colorful fruit treat he was mixing...

We've had gray-on-gray day-after-day for more mornings than any of us would choose 

but we don't decide the color of dawn's dress...

and though at first glance each gray day may seem like a carbon-copy of the previous we know no two are alike in spite of its costume!

That gold gong in yon belfry is muffled by gray on gray

Wall-to-wall tulle keeps the full sweep of countryside at bay

Those ‘pastures green’ we dream of wallow in a world of mud

Earth’s tree-lines skimmed with breathy brume and winter’s bastioned bud

Gladness is like a song we sing in spite of what is not

The sadness-es deemed for this day will spill hope’s care-filled lot

Life’s sit-and-spin, its grit-and-grin, its what-must-be-will-be

Flings wide the door of every morn to opportunity

Daybreak is like a lake, lack-luster; lost in in its own fray

Its landscape lies beneath a cape of shapeless, weightless gray

We wake and sleep, weep, laugh and leap across its brief commune

And make the best it, oh yes, in spite of its costume

© Janet Martin

 How are you making Best today?!

I think I'll kitchen putter with some cleaning-cooking-baking! 

I've NEVER heard any complaints yet when I choose this Saturday-activity😀

Something Worth Striving For...To Be, Not Simply Do

I've found when my attitude is not as it should be then no matter how good the deed may seem, the joy and blessing of its Doing is missed

The Doing and the Being

Not so very far apart

But one is rendered by the hand

The other by the heart

I’d rather be with someone kind

Than one who does kind things

For someone who is kind, is kind

No matter what life brings

Be good, be kind, be patient

This is more than sound advice

It makes the person who we are

Inside be, not do ‘nice’

© Janet Martin

 Be not wise in thine own eyes: fear the LORD, and depart from evil.

Prov.3:7

Thursday Thoughts in Pho-etry

© Janet Martin

So Begins Another Day

This little guy prefers sleeping to eating making for a fretting frazzled mommy!
Much patience-training already for new mommy and daddy...

Tip-toes touch down on time’s runway

And so begins another day

Labor lends its incumbent quest

We, still by Adam’s curse, most blest

Both friend and foe of woe and cheer

We don day’s ‘go’ of laughter-tear

The imminence of what will be

Only the eyes of God can see

We would be sore afraid in thought

Dawn’s Door, a gate to we-know-not

With trembling mustard-seed-size faith

We trust the Lord who heeds each breath

Futile to fret for what is past

While dawn begets hope’s new-day cast

We reach to touch the Giver’s hand

…so much we do not understand

I have heard people, two-feet shod

Declare they live but don’t need God

While lungs are filled with new-morn air

And they inhale grace unaware

We, poor creatures of needy noise

Dependent all, earth’s girls and boys

We gulp time’s gifted grant…Love grins

While mercy-fruit drips from our chins

© Janet Martin

 Sometimes I find the hardest move I make all day is the one where I swing my legs over the side of a comfy, cozy bed and move to the upright position! Once my feet are on the floor I no longer want to sleep but oh, the oomph to get them there!
...and so begins another day
Who knows what will be but these...Goodness and mercy for our needs

Somewhere Summer

Somewhere dewy daybreak blushes

Spills to gardens rainbow-spun

Somewhere velvet vesper hushes

Barefoot banter, sleepy sun

Somewhere hills are decked with daisy

Woodlands sire wanderlust

Somewhere afternoon wilts, hazy

Glazed with silt of harvest-dust

Somewhere raindrops melt in mirrors

Luring lads to more than look

Somewhere green is earth's prime color

Sculpts the bank that cups the brook

Somewhere destiny delivers

Somewhere blossom-beauty grins

Somewhere midnight’s homage quivers

From mist-silver violins

Somewhere boyish breezes murmur

Turquoise sea-song strums white sand

Somewhere, somewhere soul-sweet summer

Deftly drains time’s dextrous hand

Winter wails but not forever

Day by day its gales unchain

Fond fairways for sweet, sweet summer

To find Her way here again

© Janet Martin