Lay of Day-to-Day...and 11mo. grand-baby pics:)

It lolls in bowls of farm-fresh eggs

Or apples sliced for sauce

It hums its hymns in leafless limbs

Stripped of glossy green floss

It hugs with mugs of coffee, tea

It anchors hope in prayer

It wanders through dusk’s yonder blue

Where starlight spins a stair

It tilts our heads to catch the lilt

Of little baby-coo

It turns our hearts to works of art

With wonder ever new

It wakes within an aching sob

That love alone inspires

Spaghetti-pots, forget-me-not

Can kindle holy fires

It draws, with laws of letting go

Keenness to what we hold

It slides sock feet across a street

Of Bygone’s tempered gold

It chases grace across a sky

Soon snuffed of afternoon

Come darling, let’s forget to fret

Let’s lick the mixing-spoon

…it employs joy in scattered toys

Where girls and boys play, roam

It is the lay of day-to-day

And precious home sweet home

© Janet Martin

...and grandson is 11 mos.!!!

this last photo stirred the song below in my heart

 

Ethereal Essence

"I'm never quite sure what I feel the most,"  I remarked to Victoria last night as we decorated the tree. "gladness or sadness at the haste of another year."

All the tree-decorators have disappear but one and we both feel it...

...so we put on Charlie Brown while we decorate and forget to be sentimental for a bit;-)

...here's a bitty ditty to sentimentality

Time tumbles through blue, wind-tossed tress

Tempest of smile and tear

It shoulders grief and happiness

In days, a week, a year

Sometimes its chimes make us feel lost

And sometimes quite at ease

It stuns us with a hidden cost

Paid off in memories

It weighs us down yet lifts us up

It tweaks and tips our chins

To catch the nectar from a cup

That spills in groans and grins

It tracks across mom’s fresh-washed floors

It smudges glossy panes

Then slips through soundless, swinging doors

In ‘so long, mom’ refrains

It smells of dust and frost and mud

It tells a tale, my dear

Of flower that falls from the bud

In days, a week, a year

© Janet Martin

Of Almost-Snow

An air of expectancy groans through nature's bare bones today...

 ...as if one can almost hear Old Man Winter's approach!

Lovers of  'brooding landscapes' better take a long, last look according to the weather-forecast

The air is poked with bare oak branch

And stoked with ‘almost snow’

Across the yard brittle leaves dance

In footloose tic-tac-toe

The land is primed for white that spills

To deck the halls brown-gray

Glad to be clad in sledding-hills

And snow angels at play

The far-off ridge broods blue and bare

It lures the poet’s gaze

To touch the tremble in its stare

And clutch time’s ebbing ways

The earth is like a tambourine

Where tuneless jingles shake

The wind, a minstrel, wild and green

Rattles the balsam brake

…and from each window eager-eyed

A world of children wait

To greet the whirling, twirling tide

As winter opes its gate

© Janet Martin

Poem-power

A poem smiles across the miles

Where hands and feet cannot access

It feathers ramparts of the heart

With gentle love and happiness

A poem roves o'er dusky coves

It snores in fencelines echo-steeped

On sod's repose a poem blows

To scatter blooms on furrows reaped

A poem cheers across the years

Ink-murmurs adhered to plain page

Where stilted form calms, quickens storms

With script from tomes yellow with age

A poem broods in winter-woods

It curls and swirls in rock-strewn rill

A lullaby in full moon’s sky

A roguish kiss to vex and thrill

Epiphany of mystery

And expectation intertwined

Troubadour of life’s laugh-limp-love

It woos the dreamer whisper-blind

It's sweetness drops like apple-plops

When autumn strums the laden tree 

It replays scenes of what-has-been

In sentimental luxury

A poem melts and melds and molds

The gray and gold of season-tide

It draws two hearts that seem apart

Until they nestle side by side

© Janet Martin

Unbelieveable But True!!!

We follow in

The steps of he

Who healed the sick,

Made blind to see

Who wore for our

Sakes a crown

Of thorns; and laid

His battered body down

On Calvary’s cross

To be lifted up

For all to see;

He drank the cup

That we deserved

But were spared from Because He left Heaven’s kingdom; He, equal with God,

Humbly became Flesh; Ah, Jesus Is His name, Righteousness; and because of the dark, dark

 Call He braved All who call on Him (Light of the World) will be saved

…Then do not crown Despair as king Nor let the dark Of this world blind

For from Bethlehem’s
town still rings

Messiah’s hope

For humankind

And do not grope

In mires of doubt

Or dredge the deeps

Of guilty shame

Salvation in

Glad triumph shouts

And acquits sinner’s

Through this name;

Jesus, Jesus,

Who did not grasp

His Deity

As an excuse

To Usurp God’s/Love’s

Masterplan

But came to earth

Goodness and truth

To fill with worth

Through His death, 

Man

 ...we follow in the steps of He

made a way

to Him

through Him

 for

you and me

© Janet Martin