March Masterpiece In The Making...

In the last 24 hrs. March's Muse seems to be in overdrive!
...sometimes one simply needs to pause and poem it out!

March is a stage; an orchestra begins assemblage where

The air is teased with fingertips strumming winter’s postlude

While masterpiece arrangements cupped as yet beyond bold stare

Lure audiences gathering in spring’s amorous mood

  

…where branches burgeon with ecstatic melodies of green

 And earth trembles with expectation’s confidence of blooms

The violinist’s bow is gold, drawn soft across mauve sheen

Of mist-anointed morning-tide and zephyr-swaddled tombs

March hails to trails, woodlands, hills, fields; for these hold center stage

Where balladeers and troubadours cannot contain the lay

Withheld until the chill of winter turns a warmer page

Where springtime’s Maestro waits with baton poised while preludes play

March mingles moody montages with resurrected hopes

It harmonizes sunny skies with snows that linger late

While optimistic audiences fill south-facing slopes

Experience has taught them that the song is worth the wait

© Janet Martin

Looking for a nice backdrop to your March workaday routine?

Love this music and picture arrangement entitled "A Thought of Spring" by Tim Janis

Worthwhile Earth-while

Do you ever wonder when day dawns, what lies before you 

as you touch your feet down on the tarmac of time's runway?
 Aren't you thankful we don't know but can trust the One who does?!

Almost three years I posted the picture below on this post(click link to see details about the photo)
and find where to find the best tasting maple syrup in the world!


Two weeks ago while hubby was loading beef-cattle at his cousin Paul Martin's farm
Paul (man on the left) was thrown by a cattle-beast.
He has suffered a serious brain injury and is looking at a long hospital stay IF all goes well!
Please pray for this hubby/dad of a large family!
Please pray for healing and health for Paul,
for strength and peace for his wife Delphine and their family!
Paul would dearly love to be where he would be this time of year if he was healthy...
in the sugar bush 'shack' tending sap-boiling.
The middle man in the photo is my brother-in-law Dale!
 I'm sure they would appreciate your prayers as well as they forge ahead (between *hospital visits) in this busy Maple Syrup season without the help of one of their 'main men' ..
(*hospital is an hour away)

Each dark of night unravels to the travels of mankind

The threshold to a thoroughfare that none as yet have trod

Between the unforeseen and miles traversed, we, humankind

Touch down on holy ground that ultimately leads to God

We, prone to fix our eyes on prizes we can feel and touch

Groan where Hope is a lifeline in hardship’s calamities

For Hope is never seen; yet to its ether rope we clutch

While learning how to trust in what one knows; not what one sees

For we know God has promised, He never leaves us alone

All things work together for good to those who love the Lord

And though we do not know the layout of each stepping-stone

Or why; He does, who cups faith’s inconceivable reward

Not for our thought to decipher the what, why and wherefore

“Take up your cross and follow me” love’s ancient charge replies

Then when time’s dark glass is removed forever-evermore

And sight replaces faith, how worth the battle to the Prize

© Janet Martin

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, 
who have been called according to his purpose.

Rom.8:28 NIV

March Mosaic...

Sometimes my bones ache with unwritten poetry...until I let it loose

The hard grind of finding just the right text/tints to paint veiled glints into lines,
 leaves one gloriously vexed with the delightful call of...Next?!

March Mosaic was a spin-off from the poem March Music...
yet neither poem quite satisfies my March-poem appetite
where freedom of thought and ink comes with one big expense; Time!

Thatch patches blotch the lofty hill

That long stood poised, pristine and still

Where earth looks like a cottage roof

As March administers spring’s proof

The scraggly limb dons ruby gems

And pussy-willow diadems

Jack Frost must take his art elsewhere

As March kisses him to thin air

The berth that holds bloom-mirth from view

Is cracked where crocuses poke through

Soon hyacinth and daffodil

Will line earth’s sky-wide windowsill

…as nature’s boulevard runs rife

With glorious whispers of new life

Where buckets tacked to maple-trees

Gather taste-bud's sweet luxuries

And though the land looks bland and dead

Beneath its heath of weathered thread

A soundless splurge of colors teems

Where earth is bursting at the seams

…and dreamers bare their muffled necks

Stretch like fat cats on sun warmed decks

And answer to the dancer’s call

Where March makes minstrels of us all

© Janet Martin

March Music

Where seasons strum the countryside

We gladden at time’s turn of tide

When twilight waits an hour more

Before it executes its chore

Of dimming awnings overhead

And tucking drowsy day to bed

After we tread the dusky lane

Heady with spring daydreams again

Where buds wait to break woodland spells

And toll earth's soul with nature’s bells

While we wander its burnished sheen

Poised on the brink of pink and green

Of unbarred brooks and violet nooks

As March unveils sweet second looks

And graces places long denied

As springtime strums the countryside

© Janet Martin

Tower of Courage

There really are no words to fully capture the hurt of a sorrowing mother
aching for a child that is no more...

Other mothers hug her close

then return home to hug their beloved family closer... longer.

Loss...the flip-side of having held!

She bows where death has redefined

Love-sorrow-strength soft intertwined

And in her eyes the tender hurt

For one which lies beneath the dirt

Where none but God tallies her tears

That kiss the sod of yester-years

…she bows beneath yet holds the hand

Of He who helps her feet to stand

Where nothing can restore the dreams

That death has claimed too soon it seems

As through a power, not her own

She finds the courage to press on

© Janet Martin

(The word she in this poem can be changed to 'he')
this is not intended to undermine a father's sorrow
but, because I'm a mom I see through the eyes of a mother.