Oh, Heaven-ness of Sweet July

 Every year the same thing...

July feels like a beloved family member come home

after a long stay away...

Oh, em'rald hill from blue heights hung

Plethora of wildflowers flung

Across your sanguine, wild-grass sweep

A free-for-all for none to keep

Oh river, rambling jewelry

Like rhinestones sparkling to the sea

Where we are lured like fish it seems

Toward the dangling bait of streams/dreams

Oh, garden, in the cool of day

We love to come to you to pray

And sense a glimpse of Eden where

God's Presence walks upon the air

Oh, heaven-ness of sweet July

Cerulean apple of Time’s eye

Where green to gold the wheat fields run

Beneath a bold and blazing sun

Oh summer, like a jar that spills

Its salty stars to dusty sills

Where soft dusk’s dewy ebbs and flows

Clings to our skin like echo-snows

Oh, hollyhock, delphinium 

Oh, clock of petal-pendulum 

How faithfully you flare and fade

An orchestra of pieces played

Oh, heaven-ness of sweet July

A laughing twinkle in time's eye 

A flicker of sun-shadow art

That hangs forever in my heart

© Janet Martin

off to dead-head peonies and hoe onions

in the sweatiness, oops, heaven-ness of July 😎😍😊

Sweet seven-day forecast!!

(nope, we are not going to complain about the heat after May snowstorms!)

 Keep cool, comrades.

A Canada Day Thank-you Hymn

 

For freedom to get on our knees ten times a day if we so please

For blankets spread with unrushed ease beneath a canopy of trees

For picnic baskets unpacked by three-year-old happiness run wild

For fearless laughter sparkling skyward between mother and her child

For living without giving second thought to constant hunger pangs

A world outside each window, beckoning, without barbed wire fangs

For leisure hours among flowers that no gardener can tame

For the innocence of wonder no matter our age or name

For the beauty of life’s Duties in the trench of home, sweet home

For words like ‘we’ and ‘together’ to weather whatever may come

For family vacations whether one week or an afternoon

For special celebrations or the ordinary, gone too soon

For liquid diamonds splayed against backdrops of blue, after the splash

For bills to pay and chores to do and God, where hope and heartache clash

For more than we deserve, without reserve, goodness out-poured

For freedom to linger over a cup of tea, we thank Thee, Lord

For neighbours who are friends and ‘love thy neighbours’ flawless law

For New-day’s faithful second chance that mercy grants to humbled awe

For we-who-once-were-younger feeling comfortable in older skin

For breezes that lilt across leaves like bow over a violin

For masterpiece montages played on earth’s eastward and westward edge

Oh Lord, my God, when we see these we vow to keep faith’s earnest pledge

If these are but the outer fringes of what none have seen or heard

For welkin-inkwells, grass-blade quills, where poetry spills undeterred

For Favor bending over backwards to save us from ourselves

For rain-bejeweled woodlands hosting mushroom-sized fairies and elves  

For we who are our own worst enemy and yet our most devoted friend

For bygones we would change except for what they taught us in the end

For the fine art of love in spite of highest highs and lowest lows

For the divine partaking of heart-breaking thorn and healing rose

For quaking grit and shaking ‘sit’ as teenagers learn how to drive

For this and so much more, dear Lord we are thankful to be alive

For time that takes its tender toll but always only day by day

For morning-tides that roll the crumpled charge of yesterday away

For plain cocoons that hold and unfold butterflies and petal-wings

For this and so much more dear Lord, the dazzled poet sings and sings

© Janet Martin

Oh Canada, Glorious and Free (oh North America!!)

 below, yesterday's tot-craft!

Unless the LORD builds the house, the builders labor in vain. 

Unless the LORD watches over the city, the guards stand watch in vain.

Psalm 127:1

 Sharing the prayer at the close of Peter Marshall's sermon, The American Dream

(click link for the whole sermon)

Have you read it lately?

 It's truths apply to Canadians just as profoundly!

a few more excerpts (and this was preached in the1930's or 40's!!)

Ah liberty is never free; lest we forget midst common plan

To treasure with humility its prize, to serve our fellowman

And never take our eyes of He who keeps our true North strong and free

Where man’s downfall will ever be contempt for God’s supremacy

...for power-hungry greed destroys and pride always precedes the fall

And ignorance is greatest where God’s Word is treasured least of all

And then the blind, wise in their own eyes think they see and dare to lead

The flock over a precipice then bind their wounds with chains of need

...for freedom cannot long survive where godless logic takes the wheel

Ah, liberty is never freedom to forget its bloody seal

Or founding fathers full of faith; hope’s symbol raised on foreign sod

To proclaim peace and give first place to the authority of God

To pray for peace is ludicrous if we abandon its True Source

Hope without God is foolishness; a ship blown off its charted course

As wolves dressed in sheep’s clothing mingle with the loud, gullible crowd

And gloat at the prattling, pathetic prey of the godless and proud

Oh Canada, glorious and free; but oh, how certain seems thy fall

In vain we’ll stand on guard for thee if we forsake the Lord of all

Oh, Canada, the beautifully blessed because God’s grace is great

Our home and native land, oh Lord, waken before it is too late

Oh, Canada home of fine churches empty, because man neglects

The One who gave purpose to hard-working dreamers and architects

Oh Canada, glorious and free but doom looms large; thy lovely land

Of rocky heights and grassy sweeps slipping into heathen quicksand

Ah, liberty is never free; its privileges lent, not owned

Oh God, its loss is gathering momentum with each ‘prophet stoned’

And unless we repent oh Lord, our true North strong and free will fall

Oh Canada, before it is too late, pray for a miracle

© Janet Martin

If She Could (a Farewell to June)

And so begins the beauty-blur of summer in its beaming prime

And if she could she’d try to slow the hurried foot of Father Time

Where June slipped through her fingers with its flurry of petals and wings

And if she could she’d thread each day like pearls upon silver-swirled strings

As fields are folded into hay and longest days still seem too small

And if she could she’d heap a tray with keepsakes felled from nature’s hall

For always she is overcome with a parental tug of heart

And if she could she’d frame the spectrum of Echo’s elusive art

Where part of her will always stay entangled in June’s wonderment

And if she could she’d find a way to let go without fond lament

But love is always a fine mingling of bitter and sweet entwined

And if she could she would (sometimes) return to places left behind

For June never seems long enough to satisfy the poet’s yen

And if she could she would (just once) turn back and do it all again

© Janet Martin

I really would do June all over again if I could! 

This June the weather was almost perfect!